8 


cj 


of  Hctterg. 


EDITED   BY 


CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER. 


SEmcrican  Often  of 


WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


BY 

CHARLES  DUDLEY  WAENER. 

SIXTH    THOUSAND. 


BOSTON: 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY. 

11   EAST  SEVENTEENTH  STREET,   NEW 


, 

1884. 


VJ 


Copyright,  1881, 
BY  CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge : 
Electrotyped  and  printed  by  II .  0.  Houghton  &  Co. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
PRELIMINARY 


CHAPTER  II. 
BOYHOOD 21 

CHAPTER  III. 

MANHOOD  :  FIRST  VISIT  TO  EUROPE  .  .        .31 

i 

CHAPTER  IV. 
SOCIETY  AND  "SALMAGUNDI" 43 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD     .        .        .  .58 

CHAPTER  VI. 
LIFE  IN  EUROPE  :  LITERARY  ACTIVITY     ...      94 

CHAPTER  VII. 
IN  SPAIN       .       .       .       .    • 141 


986 


yi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

RETURN  TO  AMERICA  :  SUNNYSIDE  :  THE  MISSION  TO 

MADRID 158 

CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  CHARACTERISTIC  WORKS 190 

CHAPTER  X. 
LAST  YEARS:  THE  CHARACTER  OF  HIS  LITERATURE    282 


WASHINGTON  IKYING. 


CHAPTER  I. 
PRELIMINAKY. 

IT  is  over  twenty  years  since  the  death, 
of  Washington  Irving  removed  that  per 
sonal  presence  which  is  always  a  powerful, 
and  sometimes  the  sole,  stimulus  to  the  sale 
of  an  author's  books,  and  which  strongly 
affects  the  contemporary  judgment  of  their 
merits.  It  is  nearly  a  century  since  his 
birth,  which  was  almost  coeval  with  that  of 
the  Republic,  for  it  took  place  the  year  the 
British  troops  evacuated  the  city  of  New 
York,  and  only  a  few  months  before  General 
Washington  marched  in  at  the  head  of  the 
Continental  army  and  took  possession  of  the 
metropolis.  For  fifty  years  Irving  charmed 
and  instructed  the  American  people,  and 
was  the  author  who  held,  on  the  whole,  the 
first  place  in  their  affections.  As  he  was 


2  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

the  first  to  lift  American  literature  into  the 
popular  respect  of  Europe,  so  for  a  long 
time  he  was  the  chief  representative  of  the 
American  name  in  the  world  of  letters. 
During  this  period  probably  no  citizen  of 
the  Republic,  except  the  Father  of  his 
Country,  had  so  wide  a  reputation  as  his 
namesake,  Washington  Irving. 

It  is  time  to  inquire  what  basis  this  great 
reputation  had  in  enduring  qualities,  what 
portion  of  it  was  due  to  local  and  favoring 
circumstances,  and  to  make  an  impartial 
study  of  the  author's  literary  rank  and 
achievement. 

The  tenure  of  a  literary  reputation  is  the 
most  uncertain  and  fluctuating  of  all.  The 
popularity  of  an  author  seems  to  depend 
quite  as  much  upon  fashion  or  whim,  as 
upon  a  change  in  taste  or  in  literary  form. 
Not  only  is  contemporary  judgment  often  at 
fault,  but  posterity  is  perpetually  revising 
its  opinion.  We  are  accustomed  to  say  that 
the  final  rank  of  an  author  is  settled  by 
the  slow  consensus  of  mankind  in  disregard 
of  the  critics  ;•  but  the  rank  is  after  all  de 
termined  by  the  few  best  minds  of  any 
given  age,  and  the  popular  judgment  has 


PRELIMINARY.  3 

very  little  to  do  with  it.  Immediate  pop 
ularity,  or  currency,  is  a  nearly  valueless  cri 
terion  of  merit.  .  The  settling  of  high  rank 
even  in  the  popular  mind  does  not  nec 
essarily  give  currency ;  the  so-called  best 
authors  are  not  those  most  widely  read  at 
any  given  time.  Some  who  attain  the 
position  of  classics  are  subject  to  variations 
in  popular  and  even  in  scholarly  favor  or 
neglect.  It  happens  to  the  princes  of  litera 
ture  to  encounter  periods  of  varying  dura 
tion  when  their  names  are  revered  and  their 
books  are  not  read.  The  growth,  not  to 
say  the  fluctuation,  of  Shakespeare's  popu 
larity  is  one  of  the  curiosities  of  literary 
history.  Worshiped  by  his  contemporaries, 
apostrophized  by  Milton  only  fourteen  years 
after  his  death  as  the  "  dear  son  of  memory, 
great  heir  to  fame,"  — 

"  So  sepulchred  in  such  pomp  dost  lie, 
That  kings,  for  such  a  tomb,  would  wish  to  die,"  — 

he  was  neglected  by  the  succeeding  age, 
the  subject  of  violent  extremes  of  opinion 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  so  lightly  es 
teemed  by  some  that  Hume  could  doubt  if 
he  were  a  poet  "  capable  of  furnishing  a 
proper  entertainment  to  a  refined  and  in- 


4  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

telligent  audience,"  and  attribute  to  the 
rudeness  of  his  "  disproportioned  and  mis 
shapen  "  genius  the  "  reproach  of  bar 
barism  "  which  the  English  nation  had 
suffered  from  all  its  neighbors.  Only  re 
cently  has  the  study  of  him  by  English 
scholars  —  I  do  not  refer  to  the  verbal 
squabbles  over  the  text  —  been  propor 
tioned  to  his  preeminence,  and  his  fame  is 
still  slowly  asserting  itself  among  foreign 
peoples. 

There  are  already  signs  that  we  are  not 
to  accept  as  the  final  judgment  upon  the 
English  contemporaries  of  Irving  the  cur 
rency  their  writings  have  now.  In  the 
case  of  Walter  Scott,  although  there  is  al 
ready  visible  a  reaction  against  a  reaction, 
he  is  not,  at  least  in  America,  read  by  this 
generation  as  he  was  by  the  last.  This 
faint  reaction  is  no  doubt  a  sign  of  a  deeper 
change  impending  in  philosophic  and  meta 
physical  speculation.  An  age  is  apt  to  take 
a  lurch  in  a  body  one  way  or  another,  and 
those  most  active  in  it  do  not  always  per 
ceive  how  largely  its  direction  is  determined 
by  what  are  called  mere  systems  of  philoso 
phy.  The  novelist  may  not  know  whether 


PRELIMINARY.  5 

he  is  steered  by  Kant,  or  Hegel,  or  Scho 
penhauer.  The  humanitarian  novel,  the  fic 
tions  of  passion,  of  realism,  of  doubt,  the 
poetry  and  the  essays  addressed  to  the  mood 
of  unrest,  of  questioning,  to  the  scientific 
spirit  and  to  the  shifting  attitudes  of  social 
change  and  reform,  claim  the  attention  of 
an  age  that  is  completely  adrift  in  regard 
to  the  relations  of  the  supernatural  and  the 
material,  the  ideal  and  the  real.  It  would 
be  natural  if  in  such  a  time  of  confusion  the 
calm  tones  of  unexaggerated  literary  art 
should  be  not  so  much  heeded  as  the  more 
strident  voices.  Yet  when  the  passing 
fashion  of  this  day  is  succeeded  by  the 
fashion  of  another,  that  which  is  most  ac 
ceptable  to  the  thought  and  feeling  of  the 
present  may  be  without  an  audience  ;  and 
it  may  happen  that  few  recent  authors  will 
be  read  as  Scott  and  the  writers  of  the 
early  part  of  this  oentury  will  be  read.  It 
may,  however,  be  safely  predicted  that 
those  writers  of  fiction  worthy  to  be  called 
literary  artists  will  best  retain  their  hold 
who  have  faithfully  painted  the  manners  of 
their  own  time. 

Irving  has  shared  the  neglect  of  the  writ- 


6  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

ers  of  his  generation.  It  would  be  strange, 
even  in  America,  if  this  were  not  so.  The 
development  of  American  literature  (using 
the  term  in  its  broadest  sense)  in  the  past 
forty  years  is  greater  than  could  have  been 
expected  in  a  nation  which  had  its  ground 
to  clear,  its  wealth  to  win,  and  its  new  gov 
ernmental  experiment  to  adjust ;  if  we  con 
fine  our  view  to  the  last  twenty  years,  the 
national  production  is  vast  in  amount  and 
encouraging  in  quality.  It  suffices  to  say 
of  it  here,  in  a  general  way,  that  the  most 
vigorous  activity  has  been  in  the  depart 
ments  of  history,  of  applied  science,  and  the 
discussion  of  social  and  economic  problems. 
Although  pure  literature  has  made  consid 
erable  gains,  the  main  achievement  has 
been  in  other  directions.  The  audience  of 
the  literary  artist  has  been  less  than  that  of 
the  reporter  of  affairs  and  discoveries  and 
the  special  correspondent.  The  age  is  too 
busy,  too  harassed,  to  have  time  for  litera 
ture  ;  and  enjoyment  of  writings  like  those 
of  Irving  depends  upon  leisure  of  mind. 
The  mass  of  readers  have  cared  less  for 
form  than  for  novelty  and  news  and  the  sat 
isfying  of  a  recently  awakened  curiosity. 


PRELIMINARY.  T 

This  was  inevitable  in  an  era  of  journalism, 
one  marked  by  the  marvelous  results  at 
tained  in  the  fields  of  religion,  science,  and 
art,  by  the  adoption  of  the  comparative 
method.  Perhaps  there  is  no  better  illus 
tration  of  the  vigor  and  intellectual  activity 
of  the  age  than  a  living  English  writer,  who 
has  traversed  and  illuminated  almost  every 
province  of  modern  thought,  controversy, 
and  scholarship ;  but  who  supposes  that 
Mr.  Gladstone  has  added  anything  to  per 
manent  literature?  He  has  been  an  im 
mense  force  in  his  own  time,  and  his  influ 
ence  the  next  generation  will  still  feel  and 
acknowledge,  while  it  reads  not  the  writ 
ings  of  Mr.  Gladstone  but  may  be  those  of 
the  author  of  "  Henry  Esmond  "  and  the 
biographer  of  "  Rab  and  his  Friends."  De 
Quincey  divides  literature  into  two  sorts, 
the  literature  of  power  and  the  literature 
of  knowledge.  The  latter  is  of  necessity  for 
to-day  only,  and  must  be  revised  to-morrow. 
The  definition  has  scarcely  De  Quincey's 
usual  verbal  felicity,  but  we  can  apprehend 
the  distinction  he  intended  to  make. 

It  is  to  be  noted  also,  and  not  with  re 
gard  to  Irving  only,  that  the  attention  of 


8  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

young  and  old  readers  has  been  so  occupied 
and  distracted  by  the  flood  of  new  books, 
written  with  the  single  purpose  of  satisfy 
ing  the  wants  of  the  day,  produced  and  dis 
tributed  with  marvelous  cheapness  and  fa 
cility,  that  the  standard  works  of  approved 
literature  remain  for  the  most  part  unread 
upon  the  shelves.  Thirty  years  ago  Irving 
was  much  read  in  America  by  young  peo 
ple,  and  his  clear  style  helped  to  form  a 
good  taste  and  correct  literary  habits.  It 
is  not  so  now.  The  manufacturers  of  books, 
periodicals,  and  newspapers  for  the  young 
keep  the  rising  generation  fully  occupied, 
with  a  result  to  its  taste  and  mental  fibre 
which,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  must  be 
regarded  with  some  apprehension.  The 
a  plant,"  in  the  way  of  money  and  writing' 
industry  invested  in  the  production  of  juve 
nile  literature,  is  so  large  and  is  so  perma 
nent  an  interest,  that  it  requires  more  dis 
criminating  consideration  than  can  be  given 
to  it  in  a  passing  paragraph. 

Besides  this,  and  with  respect  to  Irving 
in  particular,  there  has  been  in  America  a 
criticism  —  sometimes  called  the  destruc 
tive,  sometimes  the  Donnybrook  Fair  — 


PRELIMINARY.  9 

that  found  "  earnestness  "  the  only  thing  in 
the  world  amusing,  that  brought  to  literary 
art  the  test  of  utility,  and  disparaged  what 
is  called  the  "  Knickerbocker  School "  (as 
suming  Irving  to  be  the  head  of  it)  as  want 
ing  in  purpose  and  virility,  a  merely  ro 
mantic  development  of  the  post-Revolution 
ary  period.  And  it  has  been  to  some  extent 
the  fashion  to  damn  with  faint  admiration 
the  pioneer  if  not  the  creator  of  American 
literature  as  the  "genial"  Irving. 

Before  I  pass  to  an  outline  of  the  career 
of  this  representative  American  author,  it  is 
necessary  to  refer  for  a  moment  to  certain 
periods,  more  or  less  marked,  in  our  litera 
ture.  I  do  not  include  in  it  the  works  of 
writers  either  born  in  England  or  com 
pletely  English  in  training,  method,  and  tra 
dition,  showing  nothing  distinctively  Amer 
ican  in  their  writings  except  the  incidental 
subject.  The  first  authors  whom  we  may 
regard  as  characteristic  of  the  new  country 
—  leaving  out  the  productions  of  specula 
tive  theology  —  devoted  their  genius  to  pol 
itics.  It  is  in  the  political  writings  imme 
diately  preceding  and  following  the  Revolu 
tion —  such  as  those  of  Hamilton,  Madison, 


10  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

Jay,  Franklin,  Jefferson  —  that  the  new 
birth  of  a  nation  of  original  force  and  ideas 
is  declared.  It  has  been  said,  and  I  think 
the  statement  can  be  maintained,  that  for 
any  parallel  to  those  treatises  on  the  nature 
of  government,  in  respect  to  originality  and 
vigor,  we  must  go  back  to  classic  times. 
But  literature,  that  is,  literature  which  is 
an  end  in  itself  and  not  a  means  to  some 
thing  else,  did  not  exist  in  America  be 
fore  Irving,  Some  foreshadowings  (the  au 
tobiographical  fragment  of  Franklin  was 
not  published  till  1817)  of  its  coming  may 
be  traced,  but  there  can  be  no  question  that 
his  writings  were  the  first  that  bore  the 
national  literary  stamp,  that  he  first  made 
the  nation  conscious  of  its  gift  and  op 
portunity,  and  that  he  first  announced  to 
trans- Atlantic  readers  the  entrance  of  Amer 
ica  upon  the  literary  field.  For  some  time 
he  was  our  only  man  of  letters  who  had  a 
reputation  beyond  seas. 

Irving  was  not,  however,  the  first  Amer 
ican  who  made  literature  a  profession  and 
attempted  to  live  on  its  fruits.  This  dis 
tinction  belongs  to  Charles  Brockden  Brown, 
who  was  born  in  Philadelphia,  January  17, 


PRELIMINAR  Y.  11 

1771,  and,  before  the  appearance  in  a  news 
paper  of  Irving's  juvenile  essays  in  1802, 
had  published  several  romances,  which  were 
hailed  as  original  and  striking  productions 
by  his  contemporaries,  and  even  attracted 
attention  in  England.  As  late  as  1820  a 
prominent  British  review  gives  Mr.  Brown 
the  first  rank  in  our  literature  as  an  origi 
nal  writer  and  characteristically  American. 
The  reader  of  to-day  who  has  the  curiosity 
to  inquire  into  the  correctness  of  this  opin 
ion  will,  if  he  is  familiar  with  the  romances 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  find  little  origi 
nality  in  Brown's  stories,  and  nothing  dis 
tinctively  American.  The  figures  who  are 
moved  in  them  seem  to  be  transported  from 
the  pages  of  foreign  fiction  to  the  New 
World,  not  as  it  was,  but  as  it  existed  in 
the  minds  of  European  sentimentalists. 

Mr.  Brown  received  a  fair  education  in  a 
classical  school  in  his  native  city,  and  studied 
law,  which  he  abandoned  on  the  threshold 
of  practice,  as  Irving  did,  and  for  the  same 
reason.  He  had  the  genuine  literary  im 
pulse,  which  he  obeyed  against  all  the  ar 
guments  and  entreaties  of  his  friends.  Un 
fortunately,  with  a  delicate  physical  consti- 


12  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

tution  he  had  a  mind  of  romantic  sensibil 
ity,  and  in  the  comparative  inaction  imposed 
by  his  frail  health  he  indulged  in  vision 
ary  speculation,  and  in  solitary  wanderings 
which  developed  the  habit  of  sentimental 
musing.  It  was  natural  that  such  reveries 
should  produce  morbid  romances.  The 
tone  of  them  is  that  of  the  unwholesome 
fiction  of  his  time,  in  which  the  "seducer" 
is  a  prominent  and  recognized  character  in 
social  life,  and  female  virtue  is  the  frail 
sport  of  opportunity.  Brown's  own  life 
was  fastidiously  correct,  but  it  is  a  curious 
commentary  upon  his  estimate  of  the  nat 
ural  power  of  resistance  to  vice  in  his  time, 
that  he  regarded  his  feeble  health  as  good 
fortune,  since  it  protected  him  from  the 
temptations  of  youth  and  virility. 

While  he  was  reading  law  he  constantly 
exercised  his  pen  in  the  composition  of  es 
says,  some  of  which  were  published  under 
the  title  of  the  "  Rhapsodist ; "  but  it  was 
not  until  1797  that  his  career  as  an  author 
began,  by  the  publication  of  "  Alcuin :  a  Dia 
logue  on  the  Rights  of  Women."  This  and 
the  romances  which  followed  it  show  the 
powerful  influence  upon  him  of  the  school  of 


PRELIMINARY.  13 

fiction  of  William  Godwin,  and  the  move 
ment  of  emancipation  of  which  Mary  Woll- 
stonecraft  was  the  leader.  The  period  of 
social  and  political  ferment  during  which 
"  Alcuin  "  was  put  forth  was  not  unlike  that 
which  may  be  said  to  have  reached  its 
height  in  extravagance  and  millennial  expec 
tation  in  1847-48.  In  "  Alcuin  "  are  antici 
pated  most  of  the  subsequent  discussions  on 
the  right  of  women  to  property  and  to  self- 
control,  and  the  desirability  of  revising  the 
marriage  relation.  The  injustice  of  any  more 
enduring  union  than  that  founded  upon  the 
inclination  of  the  hour  is  as  ingeniously 
urged  in  "  Alcuin  "  as  it  has  been  in  our  own 
day. 

Mr.  Brown's  reputation  rests  upon  six 
romances:  "  Wieland,"  "  Ormond,"  "Ar 
thur  Mervyn,"  "Edgar  Huntly,"  "Clara 
Howard,"  and  "  Jane  Talbot."  The  first  five 
were  published  in  the  interval  between  the 
spring  of  1798  and  the  summer  of  1801,  in 
which  he  completed  his  thirtieth  year. 
"  Jane  Talbot "  appeared  somewhat  later. 
In  scenery  and  character,  these  romances 
are  entirely  unreal.  There  is  in  them  an 
affectation  of  psychological  purpose  which 


14  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

is  not  very  well  sustained,  and  a  somewhat 
clumsy  introduction  of  supernatural  machin 
ery.  Yet  they  have  a  power  of  engaging 
the  attention  in  the  rapid  succession  of  start 
ling  and  uncanny  incidents  and. in  advent 
ures  in  which  the  horrible  is  sometimes 
dangerously  near  the  ludicrous.  Brown  had 
not  a  particle  of  humor.  Of  literary  art 
there  is  little,  of  invention  considerable; 
and  while  the  style  is  to  a  certain  extent 
unformed  and  immature,  it  is  neither  feeble 
nor  obscure,  and  admirably  serves  the  au 
thor's  purpose  of  creating  what  the  children 
call  a  "crawly"  impression.  There  is  un 
deniable  power  in  many  of  his  scenes,  nota 
bly  in  the  descriptions  of  the  yellow  fever 
in  Philadelphia,  found  in  the  romance  of 
"  Arthur  Mervyn."  There  is,  however, 
over  all  of  them  a  false  and  pallid  light;  his 
characters  are  seen  in  a  spectral  atmosphere. 
If  a  romance  is  to  be  judged  not  by  literary 
rules,  but  by  its  power  of  making  an  im 
pression  upon  the  mind,  such  power  as  a 
ghastly  story  has,  told  by  the  chimney- 
corner  on  a  tempestuous  night,  then  Mr. 
Brown's  romances  cannot  be  dismissed  with 
out  a  certain  recognition.  But  they  never 


PRELIMINAR  T.  15 

represented  anything  distinctively  Ameri 
can,  and  their  influence  upon  American  lit 
erature  is  scarcely  discernible. 

Subsequently  Mr.  Brown  became  inter 
ested  in  political  subjects,  and  wrote  upon 
them  with  vigor  and  sagacity.  He  was  the 
editor  of  two  short-lived  literary  periodicals 
which  were  nevertheless  useful  in  their  day : 
"  The  Monthly  Magazine  and  American  Re 
view,"  begun  in  New  York  in  the  spring 
of  1798,  and  ending  in  the  autumn  of  1800 ; 
and  "  The  Literary  Magazine  and  American 
Register,"  which  was  established  in  Phila 
delphia  in  1803.  It  was  for  this  periodical 
that  Mr.  Brown,  who  visited  Irving  in  that 
year,  sought  in  vain  to  enlist  the  service  of 
the  latter,  who,  then  a  youth  of  nineteen, 
had  a  little  reputation  as  the  author  of  some 
humorous  essays  in  the  "  Morning  Chroni 
cle  "  newspaper. 

Charles  Brockden  Brown  died,  the  victim 
of  a  lingering  consumption,  in  1810,  at  the 
age  of  thirty-nine.  In  pausing  for  a  moment 
upon  his  incomplete  and  promising  career, 
we  should  not  forget  to  recall  the  strong 
impression  he  made  upon  his  contemporaries 
as  a  man  of  genius,  the  testimony  to  the 


16  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

charm  of  his  conversation  and  the  goodness 
of  his  heart,  nor  the  pioneer  service  he  ren 
dered  to  letters  before  the  provincial  fetters 
were  at  all  loosened. 

The  advent  of  Cooper,  Bryant,  and  Hal- 
leek,  was  some  twenty  years  after  the  rec 
ognition  of  Irving,  but  thereafter  the  stars 
thicken  in  our  literary  sky,  and  when  in 
1832  Irving  returned  from  his  long  sojourn 
in  Europe,  he  found  an  immense  advance 
in  fiction,  poetry,  and  historical  composi 
tion.  American  literature  was  not  only 
born,  —  it  was  able  to  go  alone.  We  are 
not  likely  to  overestimate  the  stimulus  to 
this  movement  given  by  Irving's  example, 
and  by  his  success  abroad.  His  leader 
ship  is  recognized  in  the  respectful  attitude 
towards  him  of  all  his  contemporaries  in 
America.  And  the  cordiality  with  which 
he  gave  help  whenever  it  was  asked,  and 
his  eagerness  to  acknowledge  merit  in  oth 
ers,  secured  him  the  affection  of  all  the  lit 
erary  class,  which  is  popularly  supposed  to 
have  a  rare  appreciation  of  the  defects  of 
fellow  craftsmen. 

The  period  from  1830  to  1860  was  that 
of  our  greatest  purely  literary  achievement, 


PRELIMINARY.  17 

and,  indeed,  most  of  the  greater  names  of 
to-day  were  familiar  before  1850.  Con 
spicuous  exceptions  are  Motley  and  Park- 
man  and  a  few  belles-lettres  writers,  whose 
novels  and  stories  mark  a  distinct  literary 
transition  since  the  War  of  the  Rebellion. 
In  the  period  from  1845  to  1860,  there  was 
a  singular  development  of  sentimentalism  ; 
it  had  been  growing  before,  it  did  not  alto 
gether  disappear  at  the  time  named,  and  it 
was  so  conspicuous  that  this  may  properly 
be  called  the  sentimental  era  in  our  litera 
ture.  The  causes  of  it,  and  its  relation  to 
our  changing  national  character,  are  worthy 
the  study  of  the  historian.  In  politics,  the 
discussion  of  constitutional  questions,  of 
tariffs  and  finance,  had  given  way  to  moral 
agitations.  Every  political  movement  was 
determined  by  its  relation  to  slavery.  Ec 
centricities  of  all  sorts  were  developed.  It 
was  the  era  of  "  transcendentalism  "  in  New 
England,  of  "  come-outers  "  there  and  else 
where,  of  communistic  experiments,  of  re 
form  notions  about  marriage,  about  woman's 
dress,  about  diet ;  through  the  open  door 
of  abolitionism  women  appeared  upon  its 
platform,  demanding  a  various  emancipa- 
2 


18  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

tion ;  the  agitation  for  total  abstinence  from 
intoxicating  drinks  got  under  full  headway, 
urged  on  moral  rather  than  on  the  statisti 
cal  and  scientific  grounds  of  to-day ;  re 
formed  drunkards  went  about  from  town  to 
town  depicting  to  applauding  audiences  the 
horrors  of  delirium  tremens,  —  one  of  these 
peripatetics  led  about  with  him  a  goat,  per 
haps  as  a  scapegoat  and  sin-offering ;  to 
bacco  was  as  odious  as  rum;  and  I  remem 
ber  that  George  Thompson,  the  eloquent 
apostle  of  emancipation,  during  his  tour  in 
this  country,  when  on  one  occasion  he  was 
the  cynosure  of  a  protracted  antislavery 
meeting  at  Peterboro,  the  home  of  Ger- 
rit  Smith,  deeply  offended  some  of  his  co- 
workers,  and  lost  the  admiration  of  many 
of  his  admirers,  the  maiden  devotees  of 
green  tea,  by  his  use  of  snuff.  To  "  lift 
up  the  voice  "and  wear  long  hair  were  signs 
of  devotion  to  a  purpose. 

In  that  seething  time,  the  lighter  litera 
ture  took  a  sentimental  tone,  and  either 
spread  itself  in  manufactured  fine  writing, 
or  lapsed  into  a  reminiscent  and  melting 
mood.  In  a  pretty  affectation,  we  were 
asked  to  meditate  upon  the  old  garret,  the 


PRELIMINARY.  19 

deserted  hearth,  the  old  letters,  the  old 
well-sweep,  the  dead  baby,  the  little  shoes ; 
we  were  put  into  a  mood  in  which  we  were 
defenseless  against  the  lukewarm  flood  of 
the  Tupperean  Philosophy.  Even  the  news 
papers  caught  the  bathetic  tone.  Every 
"  local  "  editor  breathed  his  woe  over  the 
incidents  of  the  police  court,  the  falling  leaf, 
the  tragedies  of  the  boarding-house,  in  the 
most  lachrymose  periods  he  could  command, 
and  let  us  never  lack  fine  writing,  whatever 
might  be  the  dearth  of  news.  I  need  not 
say  how  suddenly  and  completely  this  affec 
tation  was  laughed  out  of  sight  by  the  com 
ing  of  the  "  humorous  "  writer,  whose  ex 
istence  is  justified  by  the  excellent  service 
he  performed  in  clearing  the  tearful  atmos 
phere.  His  keen  and  mocking  method, 
which  is  quite  distinct  from  the  humor  of 
Goldsmith  and  Irving,  and  differs,  in  degree 
at  least,  from  the  comic  almanac  exaggera 
tion  and  coarseness  which  preceded  it,  puts 
its  foot  on  every  bud  of  sentiment,  holds 
few  things  sacred,  and  refuses  to  regard 
anything  in  life  seriously.  But  it  has  no 
mercy  for  any  sham. 

I  refer  to  this  sentimental  era  —  remem- 


20  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

bering  that  its  literary  manifestation  was 
only  a  surface  disease,  and  recognizing  fully 
the  value  of  the  great  moral  movement  in 
purifying  the  national  life — because  many 
regard  its  literary  weakness  as  a  legitimate 
outgrowth  of  the  Knickerbocker  School, 
and  hold  Irving  in  a  manner  responsible  for 
it.  But  I  find  nothing  in  the  manly  senti 
ment  and  true  tenderness  of  Irving  to  war 
rant  the  sentimental  gush  of  his  followers, 
who  missed  his  corrective  humor  as  com 
pletely  as  they  failed  to  catch  his  literary 
art.  Whatever  note  of  localism  there  was 
in  the  Knickerbocker  School,  however  dilet 
tante  and  unfruitful  it  was,  it  was  not  the 
legitimate  heir  of  the  broad  and  eclectic 
genius  of  Irving.  The  nature  of  that  gen 
ius  we  shall  see  in  his  life. 


CHAPTER  II. 

BOYHOOD. 

WASHINGTON  IRVING  was  born  in  the 
city  of  New  York,  April  3, 1783.  He  was 
the  eighth  son  of  William  and  Sarah  Ir 
ving,  and  the  youngest  of  eleven  children, 
three  of  whom  died  in  infancy.  His  par 
ents,  though  of  good  origin,  began  life  in 
humble  circumstances.  His  father  was  born 
on  the  island  of  Shapinska.  His  family, 
one  of  the  most  respectable  in  Scotland, 
traced  its  descent  from  William  De  Irwyn, 
the  secretary  and  armor-bearer  of  Robert 
Bruce ;  but  at  the  time  of  the  birth  of  Will 
iam  Irving  its  fortunes  had  gradually  de 
cayed,  and  the  lad  sought  his  livelihood, 
according  to  the  habit  of  the  adventurous 
Orkney  Islanders,  on  the  sea. 

It  was  during  the  French  War,  and  while 
he  was  serving  as  a  petty  officer  in  an 
armed  packet  plying  between  Falmouth  and 
New  York,  that  he  met  Sarah  Sanders,  a 


22  WASHINGTON  IRVING 

beautiful  girl,  the  only  daughter  of  John 
and  Anna  Sanders,  who  had  the  distinction 
of  being  the  granddaughter  of  an  English 
curate.  The  youthful  pair  were  married  in 
1761,  and  two  years  after  embarked  for 
New  York,  where  they  landed  July  18, 
1763.  Upon  settling  in  New  York  Will 
iam  Irving  quit  the  sea  and  took  to  trade, 
in  which  he  was  successful  until  his  busi 
ness  was  broken  up  by  the  Revolutionary 
War.  In  this  contest  he  was  a  staunch 
Whig,  and  suffered  for  his  opinions  at  the 
hands  of  the  British  occupants  of  the  city, 
and  both  he  and  his  wife  did  much  to  alle 
viate  the  misery  of  the  American  prisoners. 
In  this  charitable  ministry  his  wife,  who 
possessed  a  rarely  generous  and  sympathetic 
nature,  was  especially  zealous,  supplying 
the  prisoners  with  food  from  her  own  table, 
visiting  those  who  were  ill,  and  furnishing 
them  with  clothing  and  other  necessaries. 

Washington  was  born  in  a  house  on  Will 
iam  Street,  about  half-way  between  Fulton 
and  John ;  the  following  year  the  family 
moved  across  the  way  into  one  of  the  quaint 
structures  of  the  time,  its  gable  end  with 
attic  window  towards  the  street,  the  fash- 


BOYHOOD.  23 

ion  of  which,  and  very  likely  the  bricks, 
came  from  Holland.  In  this  homestead  the 
lad  grew  up,  and  it  was  not  pulled  down  till 
1849,  ten  years  before  his  death.  The  pa 
triot  army  occupied  the  city.  "  Washing 
ton's  work  is  ended,"  said  the  mother,  "and 
the  child  shall  be  named  after  him."  When 
the  first  President  was  again  in  New  York, 
the  first  seat  of  the  new  government,  a 
Scotch  maid-servant  of  the  family,  catching 
the  popular  enthusiasm,  one  day  followed 
the  hero  into  a  shop  and  presented  the  lad 
to  him.  "  Please,  your  honor,"  said  Lizzie, 
all  aglow,  "  here  's  a  bairn  was  named  after 
you."  And  the  grave  Virginian  placed  his 
hand  on  the  boy's  head  and  gave  him  his 
blessing.  The  touch  could  not  have  been 
more  efficacious,  though  it  might  have  lin 
gered  longer,  if  he  had  known  he  was  pro 
pitiating  his  future  biographer. 

New  York  at  the  time  of  our  author's 
birth  was  a  rural  city  of  about  twenty-three 
thousand  inhabitants,  clustered  about  the 
Battery.  It  did  not  extend  northward  to 
the  site  of  the  present  City  Hall  Park ;  and 
beyond,  then  and  for  several  years  after 
wards,  were  only  country  residences,  or- 


24  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

chards,  and  corn-fields.  The  city  was  half 
burned  down  during  the  war,  and  had 
emerged  from  it  in  a  dilapidated  condition. 
There  was  still  a  marked  separation  between 
the  Dutch  and  the  English  residents,  though 
the  Irvings  seem  to  have  been  on  terms  of 
intimacy  with  the  best  of  both  nationalities. 
The  habits  of  living  were  primitive  ;  the 
manners  were  agreeably  free  ;  conviviality 
at  the  table  was  the  fashion,  and  strong  ex 
pletives  had  not  gone  out  of  use  in  conver 
sation.  Society  was  the  reverse  of  intellect 
ual  :  the  aristocracy  were  the  merchants 
and  traders  ;  what  literary  culture  found 
expression  was  formed  on  English  models, 
dignified  and  plentifully  garnished  with 
Latin  and  Greek  allusions ;  the  commercial 
spirit  ruled,  and  the  relaxations  and  amuse 
ments  partook  of  its  hurry  and  excitement. 
In  their  gay,  hospitable,  and  mercurial  char 
acter,  the  inhabitants  were  true  progenitors 
of  the  present  metropolis.  A  newspaper 
had  been  established  in  1732,  and  a  theatre 
had  existed  since  1750.  Although  the  town 
had  a  rural  aspect,  with  its  quaint  dormer- 
window  houses,  its  straggling  lanes  and 
roads,  and  the  water-pumps  in  the  middle 


BOYHOOD.  25 

of  the  streets,  it  had  the  aspirations  of  a 
city,  and  already  much  of  the  metropolitan 
air. 

These  were  the  surroundings  in  which  the 
boy's  literary  talent  was  to  develop.  His 
father  was  a  deacon  in  the  Presbyterian 
church,  a  sedate,  God-fearing  man,  with  the 
strict  severity  of  the  Scotch  Covenanter, 
serious  in  his  intercourse  with  his  family, 
without  sympathy  in  the  amusements  of  his 
children  ;  he  was  not  without  tenderness  in 
his  nature,  but  the  exhibition  of  it  was  re 
pressed  on  principle,  —  a  man  of  high  char 
acter  and  probity,  greatly  esteemed  by  his 
associates.  He  endeavored  to  bring  up  his 
children  in  sound  religious  principles,  and 
to  leave  no  room  in  their  lives  for  triviality. 
One  of  the  two  weekly  half-holidays  was 
required  for  the  catechism,  and  the  only  re 
laxation  from  the  three  church  services  on 
Sunday  was  the  reading  of  "  Pilgrim's  Prog 
ress."  This  cold  and  severe  discipline  at 
home  would  have  been  intolerable  but  for 
the  more  lovingly  demonstrative  and  impul 
sive  character  of  the  mother,  whose  gentle 
nature  and  fine  intellect  won  the  tender 
veneration  of  her  children.  Of  the  father 


26  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

they  stood  in  awe  ;  his  conscientious  piety 
failed  to  waken  any  religious  sensibility  in 
them,  and  they  revolted  from  a  teaching 
which  seemed  to  regard  everything  that 
was  pleasant  as  wicked.  The  mother, 
brought  up  an  Episcopalian,  conformed  to 
the  religious  forms  and  worship  of  her  hus 
band,  but  she  was  never  in  sympathy  with 
his  rigid  views.  The  children  were  re 
pelled  from  the  creed  of  their  father,  and 
subsequently  all  of  them  except  one  became 
attached  to  the  Episcopal  Church.  Wash 
ington,  in  order  to  make  sure  of  his  escape, 
and  feel  safe  while  he  was  still  constrained 
to  attend  his  father's  church,  went  stealth 
ily  to  Trinity  Church  at  an  early  age,  and 
received  the  rite  of  confirmation.  The  boy 
was  full  of  vivacity,  drollery,  and  innocent 
mischief.  His  sportiveness  and  disinclina 
tion  to  religious  seriousness  gave  his  mother 
some  anxiety,  and  she  would  look  at  him, 
says  his  biographer,  with  a  half  mournful 
admiration,  and  exclaim,  "  O  Washington  ! 
if  you  were  only  good !  "  He  had  a  love  of 
music,  which  became  later  in  life  a  passion, 
and  great  fondness  for  the  theatre.  The 
stolen  delight  of  the  theatre  he  first  tasted 


BOYHOOD.  27 

in  company  with  a  boy  who  was  somewhat 
his  senior,  but  destined  to  be  his  literary 
comrade,  —  James  K.  Paulding,  whose  sister 
was  the  wife  of  Irving' s  brother  William. 
Whenever  he  could  afford  this  indulgence, 
he  stole  away  early  to  the  theatre  in  John 
Street,  remained  until  it  was  time  to  return 
to  the  family  prayers  at  nine,  after  which 
he  would  retire  to  his  room,  slip  through 
his  window  and  down  the  roof  to  a  back 
alley,  and  return  to  enjoy  the  after-piece. 

Young  Irving's  school  education  was  des- 
ultoi'v,  pursued  under  several  more  or  less 
incompetent  masters,  and  was  over  at  the 
age  of  sixteen.  The  teaching  does  not 
seem  to  have  had  much  discipline  or  so 
lidity  ;  he  studied  Latin  a  few  months,  but 
made  no  other  incursion  into  the  classics. 
The  handsome,  tender-hearted,  truthful,  sus 
ceptible  boy  was  no  doubt  a  dawdler  in  rou 
tine  studies,  but  he  assimilated  wrhat  suited 
him.  He  found  his  food  in  such  pieces  of 
English  literature  as  were  floating  about,  in 
41  Robinson  Crusoe  "  and  "  Sinbad  ; "  at  ten 
he  was  inspired  by  a  translation  of  "  Or 
lando  Furioso  ;  "  he  devoured  books  of  voy 
ages  and  travel ;  he  could  turn  a  neat  verse, 


28  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

and  his  scribbling  propensities  were  exer 
cised  in  the  composition  of  childish  plays. 
The  fact  seems  to  be  that  the  boy  was  a 
dreamer  and  saunterer ;  he  himself  says  that 
he  used  to  wander  about  the  pier  heads  in 
fine  weather,  watch  the  ships  departing  on 
long  voyages,  and  dream  of  going  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth.  His  brothers  Peter  and 
John  had  been  sent  to  Columbia  College, 
and  it  is  probable  that  Washington  would 
have  had  the  same  advantage  if  he  had  not 
shown  a  disinclination  to  methodical  study. 
At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  entered  a  law  office, 
but  he  was  a  heedless  student,  and  never  ac 
quired  either  a  taste  for  the  profession  or 
much  knowledge  of  law.  While  he  sat  in 
the  law  office,  he  read  literature,  and  made 
considerable  progress  in  his  self-culture ;  but 
he  liked  rambling  and  society  quite  as  well 
as  books.  In  1798  we  find  him  passing  a 
summer  holiday  in  Westchester  County, 
and  exploring  with  his  gun  the  Sleepy  Hol 
low  region  which  he  was  afterwards  to  make 
an  enchanted  realm  ;  and  in  1800  he  made 
his  first  voyage  up  the  Hudson,  the  beauties 
of  which  he  was  the  first  to  celebrate,  on  a 
visit  to  a  married  sister  who  lived  in  the 


BOYHOOD.  29 

Mohawk  Valley.  In  1802  he  became  a  law 
clerk  in  the  office  of  Josiah  Ogden  Hoff 
man,  and  began  that  enduring  intimacy 
with  the  refined  and  charming  Hoffman 
family  which  was  so  deeply  to  influence  all 
his  life.  His  health  had  always  been  deli 
cate,  and  his  friends  were  now  alarmed  by 
symptoms  of  pulmonary  weakness.  This 
physical  disability  no  doubt  had  much  to 
do  with  his  disinclination  to  severe  study. 
For  the  next  two  or  three  years  much  time 
was  consumed  in  excursions  up  the  Hudson 
and  the  Mohawk,  and  in  adventurous  jour 
neys  as  far  as  the  wilds  of  Ogdensburg  and 
to  Montreal,  to  the  great  improvement  of 
his  physical  condition,  and  in  the  enjoyment 
of  the  gay  society  of  Albany,  Schenectady, 
Ballston,  and  Saratoga  Springs.  'These  ex 
plorations  and  visits  gave  him  material  for 
future  use,  and  exercised  his  pen  in  agree 
able  correspondence  ;  but  his  tendency  at 
this  time,  and  for  several  years  afterwards, 
was  to  the  idle  life  of  a  man  of  society. 
Whether  the  literary  impulse  which  was 
born  in  him  would  have  ever  insisted  upon 
any  but  an  occasional  and  fitful  expression, 
except  for  the  necessities  of  his  subsequent 
condition,  is  doubtful. 


30  WASHINGTON  TRY  TNG. 

living's  first  literary  publication  was  a 
series  of  letters,  signed  Jonathan  Oldstyle, 
contributed  in  1802  to  the  "  Morning 
Chronicle,"  a  newspaper  then  recently  es 
tablished  by  his  brother  Peter.  The  atten 
tion  that  these  audacious  satires  of  the  thea 
tre,  the  actors,  and  their  audience  attracted 
is  evidence  of  the  literary  poverty  of  the 
period.  The  letters  are  open  imitations  of 
the  "  Spectator  "  and  the  "  Tatler,"  and  al 
though  sharp  upon  local  follies  are  of  no 
consequence  at  present  except  as  foreshad 
owing  the  sensibility  and  quiet  humor  of  the 
future  author,  and  his  chivalrous  devotion  to 
woman.  What  is  worthy  of  note  is  that  a 
boy  of  nineteen  should  turn  aside  from  his 
caustic  satire  to  protest  against  the  cruel 
and  unmanly  habit  of  jesting  at  ancient 
maidens.  It  was  enough  for  him  that  they 
are  women,  and  possess  the  strongest  claim 
upon  our  admiration,  tenderness,  and  pro 
tection. 


CHAPTER  III. 

MANHOOD:    FIBST   VISIT  TO  EUEOPE. 

IEVING'S  health,  always  delicate,  contin 
ued  so  much  impaired  when  he  came  of  age, 
in  1804,  that  his  brothers  determined  to 
send  him  to  Europe.  On  the  19th  of  May 
he  took  passage  for  Bordeaux  in  a  sailing 
vessel,  which  reached  the  mouth  of  the 
Garonne  on  the  25th  of  June.  His  con 
sumptive  appearance  when  he  went  on 
board  caused  the  captain  to  say  to  himself, 
"  There  's  a  chap  who  will  go  overboard  be 
fore  we  get  across  ;  "  but  his  condition  was 
much  improved  by  the  voyage. 

He  stayed  six  weeks  at  Bordeaux  to  im 
prove  himself  in  the  language,  and  then  set 
out  for  the  Mediterranean.  In  the  diligence 
he  had  some  merry  companions,  and  the 
party  amused  itself  on  the  way.  It  was 
their  habit  to  stroll  about  the  towns  in 
which  they  stopped,  and  talk  with  whomever 
they  met.  Among  his  companions  was  a 


32  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

young  French  officer  and  an  eccentric,  gar 
rulous  doctor  from  America.  At  Tonneins, 
on  the  Garonne,  they  entered  a  house  where 
a  number  of  girls  were  quilting.  The  girls 
gave  Irving  a  needle  and  set  him  to  work. 
He  could  not  understand  their  patois,  and 
they  could  not  comprehend  his  bad  French, 
and  they  got  on  very  merrily.  At  last  the 
little  doctor  told  them  that  the  interesting 
young  man  was  an  English  prisoner  whom 
the  French  officer  had  in  custody.  Their 
merriment  at  once  gave  place  to  pity. 
"  Ah  !  le  pauvre  gargon  !  "  said  one  to  an 
other  ;  "  he  is  merry,  however,  in  all  his 
trouble."  "  And  what  will  they  do  with 
him  ?  "  asked  a  young  woman.  "  Oh,  noth 
ing  of  consequence,"  replied  the  doctor ; 
"  perhaps  shoot  him,  or  cut  off  his  head." 
The  good  souls  were  much  distressed ;  they 
brought  him  wine,  loaded  his  pockets  with 
fruit,  and  bade  him  good-by  with  a  hundred 
benedictions.  Over  forty  years  after,  Ir 
ving  made  a  detour,  on  his  way  from  Mad 
rid  to  Paris,  to  visit  Tonneins,  drawn  thither 
solely  by  the  recollection  of  this  incident, 
vaguely  hoping  perhaps  to  apologize  to  the 
tender-hearted  villagers  for  the  imposition. 


MANHOOD:  FIRST   VISIT  TO  EUROPE.       33 

His  conscience  had  always  pricked  him  for 
it ;  "  It  was  a  shame,"  he  said,  "  to  leave 
them  with  such  painful  impressions."  The 
quilting  party  had  dispersed  by  that  time. 
" 1  believe  I  recognized  the  house,"  he  says ; 
"  and  I  saw  two  or  three  old  women  who 
might  once  have  formed  part  of  the  merry 
group  of  girls  ;  but  I  doubt  whether  they 
recognized,  in  the  stout  elderly  gentleman, 
thus  rattling  in  his  carriage  through  their 
streets,  the  pale  young  English  prisoner  of 
forty  years  since." 

Bonaparte  was  emperor.  The  whole  coun 
try  was  full  of  suspicion.  The  police  sus 
pected  the  traveler,  notwithstanding  his 
passport,  of  being  an  Englishman  and  a 
spy,  and  dogged  him  at  every  step.  He 
arrived  at  Avignon,  full  of  enthusiasm  at 
the  thought  of  seeing  the  tomb  of  Laura. 
"  Judge  of  my  surprise,"  he  writes,  "  my 
disappointment,  and  my  indignation,  when 
I  was  told  that  the  church,  tomb,  and  all 
were  utterly  demolished  in  the  time  of  the 
Revolution.  Never  did  the  Revolution,  its 
authors  and  its  consequences,  receive  a  more 
hearty  and  sincere  execration  than  at  that 
moment.  Throughout  the  whole  of  my 


34  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

journey  I  had  found  reason  to  exclaim 
against  it  for  depriving  me  of  some  valuable 
curiosity  or  celebrated  monument,  but  this 
was  the  severest  disappointment  it  had  yet 
occasioned."  This  view  of  the  Revolution 
is  very  characteristic  of  Irving,  and  perhaps 
the  first  that  would  occur  to  a  man  of  let 
ters.  The  journey  was  altogether  disagree 
able,  even  to  a  traveler  used  to  the  rough 
jaunts  in  an  American  wilderness  :  the  inns 
were  miserable  ;  dirt,  noise,  and  insolence 
reigned  without  control.  But  it  never  was 
our  author's  habit  to  stroke  the  world  the 
wrong  way  :  "  When  I  cannot  get  a  dinner 
to  suit  my  taste,  I  endeavor  to  get  a  taste 
to  suit  my  dinner."  And  he  adds :  "  There 
is  nothing  I  dread  more  than  to  be  taken 
for  one  of  the  Smell-fungi  of  this  world.  I 
therefore  endeavor  to  be  pleased  with  every 
thing  about  me,  and  with  the  masters,  mis 
tresses,  and  servants  of  the  inns,  particu 
larly  when  I  perceive  they  have  '  all  the 
dispositions  in  the  world  '  to  serve  me  ;  as 
Sterne  says,  4It  is  enough  for  heaven  and 
ought  to  be  enough  for  me.' '' 

The  traveler  was  detained  at  Marseilles, 
and  five  weeks   at  Nice,   on  one   frivolous 


MANHOOD:  FIRST   VISIT  TO  EUROPE.       35 

pretext  of  the  police  or  another,  and  did  not 
reach  Genoa  till  the  20th  of  October.  At 
Genoa  there  was  a  delightful  society,  and 
Irving  seems  to  have  been  more  attracted 
by  that  than  by  the  historical  curiosities. 
His  health  was  restored,  and  his  spirits  re 
covered  elasticity  in  the  genial  hospitality  ; 
he  was  surrounded  by  friends  to  whom  he 
became  so  much  attached  that  it  was  with 
pain  he  parted  from  them.  The  gayety  of 
city  life,  the  levees  of  the  Doge,  and  the 
balls  were  not  unattractive  to  the  hand 
some  young  man ;  but  what  made  Genoa 
seem  like  home  to  him  was  his  intimacy 
with  a  few  charming  families,  among  whom 
he  mentions  those  of  Mrs.  Bird,  Madame 
Gabriac,  and  Lady  Shaftesbury.  From  the 
latter  he  experienced  the  most  cordial  and 
unreserved  friendship ;  she  greatly  inter 
ested  herself  in  his  future,  and  furnished 
him  with  letters  from  herself  and  the  nobil 
ity  to  persons  of  the  first  distinction  in 
Florence,  Rome,  and  Naples. 

Late  in  December  Irving  sailed  for  Sic 
ily  in  a  Genoese  packet.  Off  the  island 
of  Planoca  it  was  overpowered  and  capt 
ured  by  a  little  pickaroon,  with  lateen  sails 


36  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

and  a  couple  of  guns,  and  a  most  villainous 
crew,  in  poverty-stricken  garments,  rusty 
cutlasses  in  their  hands  and  stilettos  and 
pistols  stuck  in  their  waistbands.  The  pi 
rates  thoroughly  ransacked  the  vessel,  opened 
all  the  trunks  and  portmanteaus,  but  found 
little  that  they  wanted  except  brandy  and 
provisions.  In  releasing  the  vessel,  the  rag 
amuffins  seem  to  have  had  a  touch  of  hu 
mor,  for  they  gave  the  captain  a  "receipt" 
for  what  they  had  taken,  and  an  order  on 
the  British  consul  at  Messina  to  pay  for  the 
same.  This  old-time  courtesy  was  hardly 
appreciated  at  the  moment. 

Irving  passed  a  couple  of  months  in  Sic 
ily,  exploring  with  some  thoroughness  the 
ruins,  and  making  several  perilous  inland 
trips,  for  the  country  was  infested  by  ban 
ditti.  One  journey  from  Syracuse  through 
the  centre  of  the  island  revealed  more 
wretchedness  than  Irving  supposed  existed 
in  the  world.  The  half-starved  peasants 
lived  in  wretched  cabins  and  often  in  cav 
erns,  amid  filth  and  vermin.  "  God  knows 
my  mind  never  suffered  so  much  as  on  this 
journey,"  he  writes,  "  when  I  saw  such 
scenes  of  want  and  misery  continually  be* 


MANHOOD:  FIRST   VISIT  TO  EUROPE.       37 

fore  me,  without  the  power  of  effectually 
relieving  them."  His  stay  in  the  ports  was 
made  agreeable  by  the  officers  of  American 
ships  cruising  in  those  waters.  Every  ship 
was  a  home,  and  every  officer  a  friend.  He 
had  a  boundless  capacity  for  good-fellow 
ship.  At  Messina  he  chronicles  the  brill 
iant  spectacle  of  Lord  Nelson's  fleet  passing 
through  the  straits  in  search  of  the  French 
fleet  that  had  lately  got  out  of  Toulon.  In 
less  than  a  year,  Nelson's  young  admirer  was 
one  of  the  thousands  that  pressed  to  see 
the  remains  of  the  great  admiral  as  they 
lay  in  state  at  Greenwich,  wrapped  in  the 
flag  that  had  floated  at  the  mast-head  of  the 
Victory. 

From  Sicily  he  passed  over  to  Naples  in 
a  fruit  boat  which  dodged  the  cruisers,  and 
reached  Rome  the  last  of  March.  Here  lie 
remained  several  weeks,  absorbed  by  the 
multitudinous  attractions.  In  Italy  the 
worlds  of  music  and  painting  were  for  the 
first  time  opened  to  him.  Here  he  made 
the  acquaintance  of  Washington  Allston, 
and  the  influence  of  this  friendship  came 
near  changing  the  whole  course  of  his  life. 
To  return  home  to  the  dry  study  of  the 


38  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

law  was  not  a  pleasing  prospect ;  the  mas 
terpieces  of  art,  the  serenity  of  the  sky,  the 
nameless  charm  which  hangs  about  an 
Italian  landscape,  and  Allston's  enthusiasm 
as  an  artist,  nearly  decided  him  to  remain 
in  Rome  and  adopt  the  profession  of  a 
painter.  But  after  indulging  in  this  dream, 
it  occurred  to  him  that  it  was  not  so  much 
a  natural  aptitude  for  the  art  as  the  lovely 
scenery  and  Allston's  companionship  that 
had  attracted  him  to  it.  He  saw  something 
of  Roman  society  ;  Torlonia  the  banker 
was  especially  assiduous  in  his  attentions. 
It  turned  out  when  Irving  came  to  make  his 
adieus  that  Torlonia  had  all  along  supposed 
him  a  relative  of  General  Washington. 
This  mistake  is  offset  by  another  that  oc 
curred  later,  after  Irving  had  attained  some 
celebrity  in  England.  An  English  lady 
passing  through  an  Italian  gallery  with  her 
daughter  stopped  before  a  bust  of  Wash 
ington.  The  daughter  said,  "Mother,  who 
was  Washington  ?  "  "  Why,  my  dear,  don't 
you  know  ? "  was  the  astonished  reply. 
"  He  wrote  the  '  Sketch-Book. '  "  It  was  at 
the  house  of  Baron  von  Humboldt,  the  Prus 
sian  minister,  that  Irving  first  met  Madamo 


MANHOOD:   FIRST   VISIT  TO  EUROPE.       39 

do  Staiil,  who  was  then  enjoying  the  celeb 
rity  of  "  Delphine."  He  was  impressed  with 
her  strength  of  mind,  and  somewhat  as 
tounded  at  the  amazing  flow  of  her  conver 
sation,  and  the  question  upon  question  with 
which  she  plied  him. 

In  May  the  wanderer  was  in  Paris,  and  re 
mained  there  four  months,  studying  French 
and  frequenting  the  theatres  with  exem 
plary  regularity.  Of  his  life  in  Paris  there 
are  only  the  meagrest  reports,  and  he  re 
cords  no  observations  upon  political  affairs. 
The  town  fascinated  him  more  than  any 
other  in  Europe  ;  he  notes  that  the  city  is 
rapidly  beautifying  under  the  emperor,  that 
the  people  seem  gay  and  happy,  and  Vive 
la  bagatelle!  is  again  the  burden  of  their 
song.  His  excuse  for  remissness  in  corre 
spondence  was,  "  I  am  a  young  man  and  in 
Paris." 

By  way  of  the  Netherlands  he  reached 
London  in  October  and  remained  in  Eng 
land  till  January.  The  attraction  in  London 
seems  to  have  been  the  theatre,  where  he 
saw  John  Kemble,  Cooke,  and  Mrs.  Siddons. 
Kemble's  acting  seemed  to  him  too  studied 
and  over-labored ;  he  had  the  disadvantage 


40  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

of  a  voice  lacking  rich,  base  tones.  What 
ever  he  did  was  judiciously  conceived  and 
perfectly  executed ;  it  satisfied  the  head, 
but  rarely  touched  the  heart.  Only  in  the 
part  of  Zanga  was  the  young  critic  com 
pletely  overpowered  by  his  acting, —  Kemble 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  himself.  Cooke, 
who  had  less  range  than  Kemble,  com 
pletely  satisfied  Irving  as  lago.  Of  Mrs. 
Siddons,  who  was  then  old,  he  scarcely  dares 
to  give  his  impressions  lest  he  should  be 
thought  extravagant.  "  Her  looks,"  he  says, 
"  her  voice,  her  gestures,  delighted  me.  She 
penetrated  in  a  moment  to  my  heart.  She 
froze  and  melted  it  by  turns  ;  a  glance  of 
her  eye,  a  start,  an  exclamation,  thrilled 
through  my  whole  frame.  The  more  I  see 
her  the  more  I  admire  her.  I  hardly  breathe 
while  she  is  on  the  stage.  She  works  up 
my  feelings  till  I  am  like  a  mere  child." 
Some  years  later,  after  the  publication  of 
the  "  Sketch-Book,"  in  a  London  assembly 
Irving  was  presented  to  the  tragedy  queen, 
who  had  left  the  stage,  but  had  not  laid 
aside  its  stately  manner.  She  looked  at 
him  a  moment,  and  then  in  a  deep-toned 
voice  slowly  enunciated,  "  You  've  made  me 


MANHOOD:  FIRST   VISIT  TO  EUROPE.       41 

weep."  The  author  was  so  disconcerted 
that  he  said  not  a  word,  and  retreated  in 
confusion.  After  the  publication  of  "  Brace- 
bridge  Hall  "  he  met  her  in  company  again, 
and  was  persuaded  to  go  through  the  ordeal 
of  another  presentation.  The  stately  woman 
fixed  her  eyes  on  him  as  before,  and  slowly 
said,  "  You  've  made  me  weep  again."  This 
time  the  bashful  author  acquitted  himself 
with  more  honor. 

This  first  sojourn  abroad  was  not  imme 
diately  fruitful  in  a  literary  way,  and  need 
not  further  detain  us.  It  was  the  irresolute 
pilgrimage  of  a  man  who  had  not  yet  re 
ceived  his  vocation.  Everywhere  he  was 
received  in  the  best  society,  and  the  charm 
of  his  manner  and  his  ingenuous  nature 
made  him  everywhere  a  favorite.  He  car 
ried  that  indefinable  passport  which  society 
recognizes  and  which  needs  no  vise.  He 
saw  the  people  who  were  famous,  the  women 
whose  recognition  is  a  social  reputation  ;  he 
made  many  valuable  friends ;  he  frequented 
the  theatre,  he  indulged  his  passion  for  the 
opera ;  he  learned  how  to  dine,  and  to  ap 
preciate  the  delights  of  a  brilliant  salon ; 
he  was  picking  up  languages;  he  was  ob- 


42  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

serving  nature  and  men,  and  especially 
women.  That  be  profited  by  his  loitering 
experience  is  plain  enough  afterward,  but 
thus  far  there  is  little  to  prophesy  that 
Irving  would  be  anything  more  in  life  than 
a  charming  fldneur. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
SOCIETY   AND    "  SALMAGUNDI." 

ON  Irving's  return  to  America  in  Feb 
ruary,  1806,  with  reestablished  health,  life 
did  not  at  first  take  on  a  more  serious  pur 
pose.  He  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  but  he 
still  halted.1  Society  more  than  ever  at 
tracted  him  and  devoured  his  time.  He 
willingly  accepted  the  office  of  "  champion 
at  the  tea-parties ; "  he  was  one  of  a  knot  of 
young  fellows  of  literary  tastes  and  con 
vivial  habits,  who  delighted  to  be  known 

1  Irving  once  illustrated  his  legal  acquirements  at  this 
time  by  the  relation  of  the  following  anecdote  to  his 
nephew:  Josiah  Ogden  Hoffman  and  Martin  Wilkins, 
an  effective  and  witty  advocate,  had  been  appointed  to 
examine  students  for  admission.  One  student  acquitted 
himself  very  lamely,  and  at  the  supper  which  it  was  the 
custom  for  the  candidates  to  give  to  the  examiners,  when 
they  passed  upon  their  several  merits,  Hoffman  paused 
in  coming  to  this  one,  and  turning  to  Wilkins  said,  as  if 
in  hesitation,  though  all  the  while  intending  to  admit 
him,  "  Martin,  I  think  he  knows  a  little  law."  "  Make  it 
stronger,  Jo,"  was  the  reply ;  "  d d  little." 


44  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

as  "  The  Nine  Worthies,"  or  "  Lads  of  Kil 
kenny."  In  his  letters  of  this  period  I  de 
tect  a  kind  of  callowness  and  affectation 
which  is  not  discernible  in  his  foreign  letters 
and  journal. 

These  social  worthies  had  jolly  suppers 
at  the  humble  taverns  of  the  city,  and 
wilder  revelries  in  an  old  country  house  on 
the  Passaic,  which  is  celebrated  in  the  "Sal 
magundi  "  papers  as  Cockloft  Hall.  We 
are  reminded  of  the  change  of  manners  by 
a  letter  of  Mr.  Paulding,  one  of  his  com 
rades,  written  twenty  years  after,  who  re 
calls  to  mind  the  keeper  of  a  porter  house, 
"  who  whilom  wore  a  long  coat,  in  the 
pockets  whereof  he  jingled  two  bushels  of 
sixpenny  pieces,  and  whose  daughter  played 
the  piano  to  the  accompaniment  of  broiled 
oysters."  There  was  some  affectation  of 
roystering  in  all  this ;  but  it  was  a  time  of 
social  good-fellowship,  and  easy  freedom  of 
manners  in  both  sexes.  At  the  dinners 
there  was  much  sentimental  and  bacchana 
lian  singing ;  it  was  scarcely  good  manners 
not  to  get  a  little  tipsy;  and  to  be  laid 
under  the  table  by  the  compulsory  bumper 
was  not  to  the  discredit  of  a  guest.  Irving 


SOCIETY  AND   "SALMAGUNDI."  45 

used  to  like  to  repeat  an  anecdote  of  one  of 
his  early  friends,  Henry  Ogden,  who  had 
been  at  one  of  these  festive  meetings.  He 
told  Irving  the  next  day  that  in  going  home 
he  had  fallen  through  a  grating  which  had 
been  carelessly  left  open,  into  a  vault  be 
neath.  The  solitude,  he  said,  was  rather 
dismal  at  first,  but  several  other  of  the 
guests  fell  in,  in  the  course  of  the  evening, 
and  they  had  on  the  whole  a  pleasant  night 
of  it. 

These  young  gentlemen  liked  to  be 
thought  "  sad  dogs."  That  they  were  less 
abandoned  than  they  pretended  to  be  the 
sequel  of  their  lives  shows :  among  Irving's 
associates  at  this  time  who  attained  honora 
ble  consideration  were  John  and  Gouverneur 
Kemble,  Henry  Brevoort,  Henry  Ogden, 
James  K.  Paulding,  and  Peter  Irving.  The 
saving  influence  for  all  of  them  was  the  re 
fined  households  they  frequented  and  the  as 
sociation  of  women  who  were  high-spirited 
without  prudery,  and  who  united  purity 
and  simplicity  with  wit,  vivacity,  and  charm 
of  manner.  There  is  some  pleasant  corre 
spondence  between  Irving  and  Miss  Mary 
Fairlie,  a  belle  of  the  time,  who  married  the 


46  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

tragedian,  Thomas  A.  Cooper ;  the  "  fasci 
nating  Fairlie,"  as  Irving  calls  her,  and  the 
Sophie  Sparkle  oi-tfe^'^^inagundi."  Ir- 
ving's  susceptifei&ty  to  the  charms  and 
graces  of  women  —  a  susceptibility  which 
continued  always  fresh  —  was  tempered  and 
ennobled  by  the  most  chivalrous  admiration 
for  the  sex  as  a  whole.  He  placed  them  on 
an  almost  romantic  pinnacle,  and  his  actions 
always  conformed  to  his  romantic  ideal,  al 
though  in  his  writings  he  sometimes  adopts 
the  conventional  satire  which  was  more  com 
mon  fifty  years  ago  than  now.  In  a  letter 
to  Miss  Fairlie,  written  from  Richmond, 
where  he  was  attending  the  trial  of  Aaron 
Burr,  he  expresses  his  exalted  opinion  of 
the  sex.  It  was  said  in  accounting  for  the 
open  sympathy  of  the  ladies  with  the  pris 
oner  that  Burr  had  always  been  a  favorite 
with  them ;  "  but  I  am  not  inclined,"  he 
writes,  "  to  account  for  it  in  so  illiberal  a 
manner ;  it  results  from  that  merciful,  that 
heavenly  disposition,  implanted  in  the  fe 
male  bosom,  which  ever  inclines  in  favor 
of  the  accused  and  the  unfortunate.  You 
will  smile  at  the  high  strain  in  which  I 
have  indulged  ;  believe  xne,  it  is  because  I 


SOCIETY  AND  "SALMAGUNDI."  47 

feel  it ;  and  I  love  your  sex  ten  times  better 
than  ever."1 

Personally,  Irving  must  have  awakened 
a  reciprocal  admiration.  A  drawing  by 
Vanderlyn,  made  in  Paris  in  1805,  and  a 
portrait  by  Jarvis  in  1809,  present  him  to 
us  in  the  fresh  bloom  of  manly  beauty. 
The  face  has  an  air  of  distinction  and  gen- 

1  An  amusing  story  in  connection  with  this  Kichmond 
visit  illustrates  the  romantic  phase  of  Irving's  character. 
Cooper,  who  was  playing  at  the  theatre,  needed  small 
clothes  for  one  of  his  parts;  Irving  lent  him  a  pair, — 
knee-breeches  being  still  worn,  —  and  the  actor  carried 
them  off  to  Baltimore.  From  that  city  he  wrote  that  he 
had  found  in  the  pocket,  an  emblem  of  love,  a  mysterious 
locket  of  hair  in  the  shape  of  a  heart.  The  history  of  it 
is  curious :  when  Irving  sojourned  at  Genoa  he  was  much 
taken  with  the  beauty  of  a  young  Italian  lady,  the  wife 
of  a  Frenchman.  He  had  never  spoken  with  her,  but  one 
evening  before  his  departure  he  picked  up  from  the  floor 
her  handkerchief  which  she  had  dropped,  and  with  more 
gallantry  than  honesty  carried  it  off  to  Sicily.  His 
pocket  was  picked  of  the  precious  relic  while  he  was  at 
tending  a  religious  function  in  Catania,  and  he  wrote  to 
his  friend  Storm,  the  consul  at  Genoa,  deploring  his 
loss.  The  consul  communicated  the  sad  misfortune  to 
the  lovely  Bianca,  for  that  was  the  lady's  name,  who 
thereupon  sent  him  a  lock  of  her  hair,  with  the  request 
that  he  would  come  to  see  her  on  his  return.  He  never 
saw  her  again,  but  the  lock  of  hair  was  inclosed  in  a 
locket  and  worn  about  his  neck,  in  memory  of  a  radiant 
vision  that  had  crossed  his  path  and  vanished. 


48  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

tie  breeding;  the  refined  lines,  the  poetic 
chin,  the  sensitive  mouth,  the  shapely  nose, 
the  large  dreamy  eyes,  the  intellectual  fore 
head,  and  the  clustering  brown  locks  are 
our  ideal  of  the  author  of  the  "  Sketch- 
Book "  and  the  pilgrim  in  Spain.  His  bi 
ographer,  Mr.  Pierre  M.  Irving,  has  given 
no  description  of  his  appearance;  but  a 
relative,  who  saw  much  of  our  author  in 
his  latter  years,  writes  to  me :  "  He  had 
dark  gray  eyes  ;  a  handsome  straight  nose, 
which  might  perhaps  be  called  large ;  a 
broad,  high,  full  forehead,  and  a  small 
mouth.  I  should  call  him  of  medium 
height,  about  five  feet  eight  and  a  half  to 
nine  inches,  and  inclined  to  be  a  trifle  stout. 
There  was  no  peculiarity  about  his  voice  ; 
but  it  was  pleasant  and  had  a  good  intona 
tion.  His  smile  was  exceedingly  genial, 
lighting  up  his  whole  face  and  rendering  it 
very  attractive;  while,  if  he  were  about  to 
say  anything  humorous,  it  would  beam  forth 
from  his  eyes  even  before  the  words  were 
spoken.  As  a  young  man  his  face  was  ex 
ceedingly  handsome,  and  his  head  was  well 
covered  with  dark  hair ;  but  from  my  earliest 
recollection  of  him  he  wore  neither  whiskers 


SOCIETY  AND  "SALMAGUNDI."  49 

nor  moustache,  but  a  dark  brown  wig, 
which,  although  it  made  him  look  younger, 
concealed  a  beautifully  shaped  head."  We 
can  understand  why  he  was  a  favorite  in 
the  society  of  Baltimore,  Washington,  Phil 
adelphia,  and  Albany,  as  well  as  of  New 
York,  and  why  he  liked  to  linger  here  and 
there,  sipping  the  social  sweets,  like  a  man 
born  to  leisure  and  seemingly  idle  observa 
tion  of  life. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  these  social  suc 
cesses,  and  just  after  his  admission  to  the 
bar,  that  Irving  gave  the  first  decided  evi 
dence  of  the  choice  of  a  career.  This  was 
his  association  with  his  eldest  brother,  Will 
iam,  and  Paulding  in  the  production  of 
"  Salmagundi,"  a  semi-monthly  periodical, 
in  small  duodecimo  sheets,  which  ran  with 
tolerable  regularity  through  twenty  num 
bers,  and  stopped  in  full  tide  of  success, 
with  the  whimsical  indifference  to  the  pub 
lic  which  had  characterized  its  every  issue. 
Its  declared  purpose  was  "  simply  to  in 
struct  the  young,  reform  the  old,  correct 
the  town,  and  castigate  the  age."  In  man 
ner  and  purpose  it  was  an  imitation  of  the 
"  Spectator "  and  the  "  Citizen  of  the 

4 


50  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

World,"  and  it  must  share  the  fate  of  all 
imitations ;  but  its  wit  was  not  borrowed, 
and  its  humor  was  to  some  extent  origi 
nal  ;  and  so  perfectly  was  it  adapted  to  local 
conditions  that  it  may  be  profitably  read  to 
day  as  a  not  untrue  reflection  of  the  manners 
and  spirit  of  the  time  and  city.  Its  amus 
ing  audacity  and  complacent  superiority, 
the  mystery  hanging  about  its  writers,  its 
affectation  of  indifference  to  praise  or  profit, 
its  fearless  criticism,  lively  wit,  and  irre 
sponsible  humor,  piqued,  puzzled,  and  de 
lighted  the  town.  From  the  first  it  was 
an  immense  success;  it  had  a  circulation 
in  other  cities,  and  many  imitations  of  it 
sprung  up.  Notwithstanding  many  affecta 
tions  and  puerilities  it  is  still  readable  to 
Americans.  Of  course,  if  it  were  offered 
now  to  the  complex  and  sophisticated  soci 
ety  of  New  York,  it  would  fail  to  attract 
anything  like  the  attention  it  received  in 
the  days  of  simplicity  and  literary  dearth ; 
but  the  same  wit,  insight,  and  literary  art, 
informed  with  the  modern  spirit  and  turned 
upon  the  follies  and  "  whim- whams  "  of  the 
metropolis,  would  doubtless  have  a  great 
measure  of  success.  In  Irving's  contribu- 


SOCIETY  AND   "SALMAGUNDI"  51 

tions  to  it  may  be  traced  the  germs  of  nearly 
everything  that  he  did  afterwards ;  in  it  he 
tried  the  various  stops  of  his  genius ;  he 
discovered  his  own  power  ;  his  career  was 
determined ;  thereafter  it  was  only  a  ques 
tion  of  energy  or  necessity. 

In  the  summer  of  1808  there  were  printed 
at  Ballston-Spa — then  the  resort  of  fashion 
and  the  arena  of  flirtation  —  seven  numbers 
of  a  duodecimo  bagatelle  in  prose  and  verse, 
entitled  "  The  Literary  Picture  Gallery  and 
Admonitory  Epistles  to  the  Visitors  of  Ball 
ston-Spa,  by  Simeon  Senex,  Esquire."  This 
piece  of  summer  nonsense  is  not  referred  to 
by  any  writer  who  has  concerned  himself 
about  Irving's  life,  but  there  is  reason  to 
believe  that  he  was  a  contributor  to  it  if  not 
the  editor.1 

In  these  yellow  pages  is  a  melancholy  re 
flection  of  the  gayety  and  gallantry  of  the 
Sans  Souci  hotel  seventy  years  ago.  In  this 
"  Picture  Gallery,"  under  the  thin  disguise 
of  initials,  are  the  portraits  of  well-known 

1  For  these  stray  reminders  of  the  old-time  gayety  of 
Ballston-Spa,  I  am  indebted  to  J.  Carson  Brevoort,  Esq., 
whose  father  was  Irving's  most  intimate  friend,  and  who 
told  him  that  Irving  had  a  hand  in  them. 


52  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

belles  of  New  York  whose  charms  of  person 
and  graces  of  mind  would  make  the  present 
reader   regret   his   tardy   advent   into   this 
world,  did  not  the  "  Admonitory  Epistles," 
addressed  to  the  same  sex,  remind  him  that 
the»  manners  of  seventy  years  ago  left  much 
to  be  desired.     In  respect  of  the  habit  of 
swearing,  "  Simeon  "  advises  "  Myra  "  that 
if   ladies  were  to  confine   themselves  to  a 
single  round  oath,  it  would  be  quite  suffi 
cient  ;  and  he  objects,  when  he  is  at  the 
public  table,  to  the  conduct  of  his  neighbor 
who  carelessly  took  up  "Simeon's"  fork  and 
used  it  as  a  tooth-pick.     All  this,  no  doubt, 
passed  for  wit  in  the  beginning  of  the  cent 
ury.     Punning,   broad   satire,    exaggerated 
compliment,    verse  which  has  love  for  its 
theme  and  the  "sweet  bird  of  Venus  "  for 
its  object,  an  affectation  of  gallantry  and  of 
ennui,  with  anecdotes  of  distinguished  vis 
itors,  out  of  which  the  screaming  fun  has 
quite  evaporated,  make  up  the  staple  of  these 
faded   mementos   of    an   ancient   watering- 
place.     Yet  how  much  superior  is  our  com 
edy  of  to-day  ?    The  beauty  and  the  charms 
of  the  women  of  two  generations  ago  exist 
only  in  tradition ;  perhaps  we  should  give 


SOCIETY  AND  "SALMAGUNDI."  53 

to  the  wit  of  that  time  equal  admiration  if 
none  of  it  had  been  preserved. 

Irving,    notwithstanding    the   success   of 
"  Salmagundi,"  did  not  immediately  devote 
himself  to  literature,  nor  seem  to  regard  his 
achievements  in  it  as  anything  more  than 
aids  to  social  distinction.     He  was  then,  as 
always,  greatly  influenced  by  his  surround 
ings.     These  were  unfavorable  to  literary 
pursuits.     Politics  was  the  attractive  field 
for  preferment  and  distinction ;  and  it  is 
more  than  probable  that,  even  after  the  suc 
cess  of  the  Knickerbocker  history,  he  would 
have  drifted  through  life,  half  lawyer  and 
half  placeman,  if  the  associations  and  stim 
ulus  of  an  old  civilization,  in  his  second  Eu 
ropean  residence,  had  not  fired  his  ambition. 
Like  most  young  lawyers  with  little  law  and 
less  clients,  he  began  to  dabble  in  local  pol 
itics.     The  experiment  was  not  much  to  his 
taste,  and  the  association  and  work  demand 
ed,  at  that  time,  of  a  ward  politician  soon 
disgusted  him.     "  We  have  toiled  through 
the  purgatory  of  an  election,"  he  writes  to 
the  fair  Republican,  Miss  Fairlie,  who  re 
joiced  in  the  defeat  he  and  the  Federals  had 
sustained :  — 


54  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

"  What  makes  me  the  more  outrageous  is,  that 
I  got  fairly  drawn  into  the  vortex,  and  before  the 
third  day  was  expired,  I  was  as  deep  in  mud  and 
politics  as  ever  a  moderate  gentleman  would  wish 
to  be  ;  and  I  drank  beer  with  the  multitude ;  and 
I  talked  hand-bill  fashion  with  the  demagogues ; 
and  I  shook  hands  with  the  mob,  whom  my  heart 
abhorreth.  "Tis  true,  for  the  first  two  days  I 
maintained  my  coolness  and  indifference.  The 
first  day  I  merely  hunted  for  whim,  character, 
and  absurdity,  according  to  my  usual  custom ;  the 
second  day  being  rainy,  I  sat  in  the  bar-room  at 
the  Seventh  Ward,  and  read  a  volume  of  (  Gala 
tea/  which  I  found  on  a  shelf  ;  but  before  I  had 
got  through  a  hundred  pages,  I  had  three  or  four 
good  Feds  sprawling  round  me  on  the  floor,  and 
another  with  his  eyes  half  shut,  leaning  on  my 
shoulder  in  the  most  affectionate  manner,  and 
spelling  a  page  of  the  book  as  if  it  had  been  an 
electioneering  hand-bill.  But  the  third  day  — 
ah !  then  came  the  tug  of  war.  My  patriotism 
then  blazed  forth,  and  I  determined  to  save  my 
country  !  Oh,  my  friend,  I  have  been  in  such 
holes  and  corners ;  such  filthy  nooks  and  filthy 
corners ;  sweep  offices  and  oyster  cellars !  '  I  have 
sworn  brother  to  a  leash  of  drawers,  and  can 
drink  with  any  tinker  in  his  own  language  during 
my  life,'  —  faugh !  I  shall  not  be  able  to  bear  the 
smell  of  small  beer  and  tobacco  for  a  month  to 


SOCIETY  AND  "SALMAGUNDI."  55 

come.  .  .  .  Truly  this  saving  one's  country  is  a 
nauseous  piece  of  business,  and  if  patriotism  is 
such  a  dirty  virtue,  —  prythee,  no  more  of  it." 

He  unsuccessfully  solicited  some  civil  ap 
pointment  at  Albany,  a  very  modest  solic 
itation,  which  was  never  renewed,  and  which 
did  not  last  long,  for  he  was  no  sooner  there 
than  he  was  "disgusted  by  the  servility 
and  duplicity  and  rascality  witnessed  among 
the  swarm  of  scrub  politicians."  There  was 
a  promising  young  artist  at  that  time  in 
Albany,  and  Irving  wishes  he  were  a  man 
of  wealth,  to  give  him  a  helping  hand ;  a 
few  acts  of  munificence  of  this  kind  by  rich 
nabobs,  he  breaks  out,  "  would  be  more 
pleasing  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  and  more 
to  the  glory  and  advantage  of  their  coun 
try,  than  building  a  dozen  shingle  church 
steeples,  or  buying  a  thousand  venal  votes 
at  an  election."  This  was  in  the  "  good  old 
times !  " 

Although  a  Federalist,  and,  as  he  de 
scribed  himself,  "an  admirer  of  General 
Hamilton,  and  a  partisan  with  him  in  pol 
itics,"  he  accepted  a  retainer  from  Burr's 
friends  in  1807,  and  attended  his  trial  in 
Richmond,  but  more  in  the  capacity  of  an 


56  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

observer  of  the  scene  than  a  lawyer.  He 
did  not  share  the  prevalent  opinion  of  Burr's 
treason,  and  regarded  him  as  a  man  so  fallen 
as  to  be  shorn  of  the  power  to  injure  the 
country,  one  for  whom  he  could  feel  nothing 
but  compassion.  That  compassion,  however, 
he  received  only  from  the  ladies  of  the  city, 
and  the  traits  of  female  goodness  manifested 
then  sunk  deep  into  Irving's  heart.  With 
out  pretending,  he  says,  to  decide  on  Burr's 
innocence  or  guilt,  "  his  situation  is  such  as 
should  appeal  eloquently  to  the  feelings  of 
every  generous  bosom.  Sorry  am  I  to  say 
the  reverse  has  been  the  fact :  fallen,  pro 
scribed,  pre-judged,  the  cup  of  bitterness 
has  been  administered  to  him  with  an  un 
sparing  hand.  It  has  almost  been  considered 
as  culpable  to  evince  toward  him  the  least 
sympathy  or  support ;  and  many  a  hollow- 
hearted  caitiff  have  I  seen,  who  basked  in 
the  sunshine  of  his  bounty  while  in  power, 
who  now  skulked  from  his  side,  and  even 
mingled  among  the  most  clamorous  of  his 
enemies.  ...  I  bid  him  farewell  with  a 
heavy  heart,  and  he  expressed  with  peculiar 
warmth  and  feeling  his  sense  of  the  interest 
I  had  taken  in  his  fate.  I  never  felt  in  a 


SOCIETY  AND  "SALMAGUNDI."  57 

more  melancholy  mood  than  when  I  rode 
from  his  solitary  prison."  This  is  a  good 
illustration  of  Irving's  tender-heartedness ; 
but  considering  Burr's  whole  character,  it 
is  altogether  a  womanish  case  of  misplaced 
sympathy  with  the  cool  slayer  of  Alexander 
Hamilton. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  KNICKERBOCKER   PEEIOD. 

NOT  long  after  the  discontinuance  of 
"  Salmagundi,"  Irving  in  connection  with 
his  brother  Peter  projected  the  work  that 
was  to  make  him  famous.  At  first  nothing 
more  was  intended  than  a  satire  upon  the 
"Picture  of  New  York,"  by  Dr.  Samuel 
Mitchell,  just  then  published.  It  was  be 
gun  as  a  mere  burlesque  upon  pedantry  and 
erudition,  and  was  well  advanced,  when 
Peter  was  called  by  his  business  to  Europe, 
and  its  completion  was  fortunately  left  to 
Washington.  In  his  mind  the  idea  ex 
panded  into  a  different  conception.  He 
condensed  the  mass  of  affected  learning, 
which  was  their  joint  work,  into  five  intro 
ductory  chapters,  —  subsequently  he  said  it 
would  have  been  improved  if  it  had  been 
reduced  to  one,  and  it  seems  to  me  it  would 
have  been  better  if  that  one  had  been 
thrown  away,  —  and  finished  "  A  History 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  59 

of  New  York,"  by  Diedrich  Knickerbocker, 
substantially  as  we  now  have  it:  This  was 
in  1809,  when  Irving  was  twenty-six  years 
old. 

But  before  this  humorous  creation  was 
completed,  the  author  endured  the  terrible 
bereavement  which  was  to  color  all  his  life. 
He  had  formed  a  deep  and  tender  passion 
for  Matilda  Hoffman,  the  second  daughter 
of  Jeremiah  Ogden  Hoffman,  in  whose  fam 
ily  he  had  long  been  on  a  footing  of  the 
most  perfect  intimacy,  and  his  ardent  love 
was  fully  reciprocated.  He  was  restlessly 
casting  about  for  some  assured  means  of 
livelihood  which  would  enable  him  to  marry, 
and  perhaps  his  distrust  of  a  literary  career 
was  connected  with  this  desire,  when  after 
a  short  illness  Miss  Hoffman  died,  in  the 
eighteenth  year  .of  her  age.  Without  being 
a  dazzling  beauty,  she  was  lovely  in  person 
and  mind,  with'  most  engaging  manners,  a 
refined  sensibility,  and  a  delicate  and  play 
ful  humor.  The  loss  was  a  crushing  blow  to 
Irving,  from  the  effects  of  which  he  never 
recovered,  although  time  softened  the  bit 
terness  of  his  grief  into  a  tender  and  sa 
cred  memory.  He  could  never  bear  to  hear 


60  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

her  name  spoken  even  by  his  most  inti 
mate  friends,  or  any  allusion  to  her.  Thirty 
years  after  her  death,  it  happened  one  even 
ing  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Hoffman,  her  father, 
that  a  granddaughter  was  playing  for  Mr. 
Irving,  and  in  taking  her  music  from  the 
drawer,  a  faded  piece  of  embroidery  was 
brought  forth.  "  Washington,"  said  Mr. 
Hoffman,  picking  it  up,  "  this  is  a  piece  of 
poor  Matilda's  workmanship."  The  effect 
was  electric.  He  had  been  talking  in  the 
sprightliest  mood  before,  but  he  sunk  at 
once  into  utter  silence,  and  in  a  few  mo 
ments  got  up  and  left  the  house. 

After  his  death,  in  a  private  repository 
of  which  he  always  kept  the  key,  was  found 
a  lovely  miniature,  a  braid  of  fair  hair,  and 
a  slip  of  paper,  on  which  was  written  in  his 
own  hand,  "  Matilda  Hoffman  ;  "  and  with 
these  treasures  were  several  pages  of  a 
memorandum  in  ink  long  since  faded.  He 
kept  through  life  her  Bible  and  Prayer 
Book ;  they  were  placed  nightly  under  his 
pillow  in  the  first  days  of  anguish  that  fol 
lowed  her  loss,  and  ever  after  they  were  the 
inseparable  companions  of  all  his  wander 
ings.  In  this  memorandum  —  which  was 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  61 

written  many  years  afterwards  —  we  read 
the  simple  story  of  his  love  :  — 

"  We  saw  each  other  every  day,  and  I  became 
excessively  attached  to  her.  Her  shyness  wore 
off  by  degrees.  The  more  I  saw  of  her  the  more 
I  had  reason  to  admire  her.  Her  mind  seemed 
to  unfold  leaf  by  leaf,  and  every  time  to  discover 
new  sweetness.  Nobody  knew  her  so  well  as  I, 
for  she  was  generally  timid  and  silent ;  but  I  in  a 
manner  studied  her  excellence.  Never  did  I 
meet  with  more  intuitive  rectitude  of  mind,  more 
native  delicacy,  more  exquisite  propriety  in  word, 
thought,  and  action,  than  in  this  young  creature. 
I  am  not  exaggerating  ;  what  I  say  was  acknowl 
edged  by  all  who  knew  her.  Her  brilliant  little 
sister  used  to  say  that  people  began  by  admiring 
her,  but  ended  by  loving  Matilda.  For  my  part, 
I  idolized  her.  I  felt  at  times  rebuked  by  her 
superior  delicacy  and  purity,  and  as  if  I  was  a 
coarse,  unworthy  being  in  comparison." 

At  this  time  Irving  was  much  perplexed 
about  his  career.  He  had  "  a  fatal  propen 
sity  to  belles-lettres ; "  his  repugnance  to  the 
law  was  such  that  his  mind  would  not  take 
hold  of  the  study  ;  he  anticipated  nothing 
from  legal  pursuits  or  political  employ 
ment  ;  he  was  secretly  writing  the  humor- 


62  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

ous  history,  but  was  altogether  in  a  low- 
spirited  and  disheartened  state.  I  quote 
again  from  the  memorandum  :  — 

"  In  the  mean  time  I  saw  Matilda  every  day, 
and  that  helped  to  distract  me.  In  the  midst  of 
this  struggle  and  anxiety  she  was  taken  ill  with 
a  cold.  Nothing  was  thought  of  it  at  first ;  but 
she  grew  rapidly  worse,  and  fell  into  a  consump 
tion.  I  cannot  tell  you  what  I  suffered.  The 
ills  that  I  have  undergone  in  this  life  have  been 
dealt  out  to  me  drop  by  drop,  and  I  have  tasted 
all  their  bitterness.  I  saw  her  fade  rapidly 
away ;  beautiful,  and  more  beautiful,  and  more 
angelical  to  the  last.  I  was  often  by  her  bed 
side  ;  and  in  her  wandering  state  of  mind  she 
would  talk  to  me  with  a  sweet,  natural,  and  af 
fecting  eloquence,  that  was  overpowering.  I  saw 
more  of  the  beauty  of  her  mind  in  that  delirious 
state  than  I  had  ever  known  before.  Her  mal 
ady  was  rapid  in  its  career,  and  hurried  her  off 
in  two  months.  Her  dying  struggles  were  pain 
ful  and  protracted.  For  three  days  and  nights 
I  did  not  leave  the  house,  and  scarcely  slept.  I 
was  by  her  when  she  died ;  all  the  family  were 
assembled  round  her,  some  praying,  others  weep 
ing,  for  she  was  adored  by  them  all.  I  was  the 
last  one  she  looked  upon.  I  have  told  you  as 
briefly  as  I  could  what,  if  I  were  to  tell  with  all 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  63 

the  incidents  and  feelings  that  accompanied  it, 
would  fill  volumes.  She  was  but  about  seven 
teen  years  old  when  she  died. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  what  a  horrid  state  of  mind 
I  was  in  for  a  long  time.  I  seemed  to  care  -for 
nothing ;  the  world  was  a  blank  to  me.--  I  aban 
doned  all  thoughts  of  the  law.  I  went  into  the 
country,  but  could  not  bear  solitude,  yet  could 
not  endure  society.  There  was  a  dismal  horror 
continually  in. my  mind,  that  made  me  fear  to  be 
alone.  "I  had  often  to  get  up  in  the  night,  and 
seek  the  bedroom  of  my  brother,  as  if  the  having 
a  human  being  by  me  would  relieve  me  from  the 
frightful  gloom  of  my  own  thoughts. 

"  Months  elapsed  before  my  mind  would  re 
sume  any  tone ;  but  the  despondency  I  had  suf 
fered  for  a  long  time  in  the  course  of  this 
attachment,  and  the  anguish  that  attended  its 
catastrophe,  seemed  to  give  a  turn  to  my  whole 
character,  and  throw  some  clouds  into  my  dis 
position,  which  have  ever  since  hung  about  it. 
When  I  became  more  calm  and  collected,  I  ap 
plied  myself,  by  way  of  occupation,  to  the  finish 
ing  of  my  work.  I  brought  it  to  a  close,  as  well 
as  I  could,  and  published  it ;  but  the  time  and 
circumstances  in  which  it  was  produced  rendered 
me  always  unable  to  look  upon  it  with  satisfac 
tion.  Still  it  took  with  the  public,  and  gave  me 
celebrity,  as  an  original  work  was  something  re- 


64  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

markable  and  uncommon  in  America.  I  was  no 
ticed,  caressed,  and,  for  a  time,  elevated  by  the 
popularity  I  had  gained.  I  found  myself  uncom 
fortable  in  my  feelings  in  New  York,  and  trav 
eled  about  a  little.  Wherever  I  went  I  was 
overwhelmed  with  attentions  ;  I  was  full  of 
youth  and  animation,  far  different  from  the  being 
I  now  am,  and  I  was  quite  flushed  with  this  early 
taste  of  public  favor.  Still,  however,  the  career 
of  gayety  and  notoriety  soon  palled  on  me.  I 
seemed  to  drift  about  without  aim  or  object,  at 
the  mercy  of  every  breeze ;  my  heart  wanted 
anchorage.  I  was  naturally  susceptible,  and  tried 
to  form  other  attachments,  but  my  heart  would 
not  hold  on  ;  it  would  continually  recur  to  what 
it  had  lost ;  and  whenever  there  was  a  pause  in 
the  hurry  of  novelty  and  excitement,  I  would 
sink  into  dismal  dejection.  For  years  I  could 
not  talk  on  the  subject  of  this  hopeless  regret ;  I 
could  not  even  mention  her  name  ;  but  her  image 
was  continually  before  me,  and  I  dreamt  of  her 
incessantly." 

This  memorandum,  it  subsequently  ap 
peared,  was  a  letter,  or  a  transcript  of  it, 
addressed  to  a  married  lady,  Mrs.  Foster,  in 
which  the  story  of  his  early  love  was  re 
lated,  in  reply  to  her  question  why  he  had 
never  married.  It  was  in  the  year  1823, 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  65 

the  year  after  the  publication  of  "  Brace- 
bridge  Hall,"  while  he  sojourned  in  Dres 
den,  that  he  became  intimate  with  an  Eng 
lish  family  residing  there,  named  Foster, 
and  conceived  for  the  daughter,  Miss  Emily 
Foster,  a  warm  friendship  and  perhaps  a 
deep  attachment.  The  letter  itself,  which 
for  the  first  time  broke  the  guarded  seclu 
sion  of  Irving's  heart,  is  evidence  of  the 
tender  confidence  that  existed  between  him 
and  this  family.  That  this  intimacy  would 
have  resulted  in  marriage,  or  an  offer  of 
marriage,  if  the  lady's  affections  had  not 
been  preoccupied,  the  Fosters  seem  to  have 
believed.  In  an  unauthorized  addition  to 
the  "  Life  and  Letters,"  inserted  in  the 
English  edition  without  the  knowledge  of 
the  American  editor,  with  some  such  head 
ings  as,  "  History  of  his  First  Love  brought 
to  us,  and  returned,"  and  "  Irving's  Second 
Attachment,"  the  Fosters  tell  the  interest 
ing  story  of  Irving's  life  in  Dresden,  and 
give  many  of  his  letters,  and  an  account 
of  his  intimacy  with  the  family.  From  this 
account  I  quote  :  — 

"  Soon  after  this,  Mr.  Irving,  who  had  again 
for  long  felt  *  the   tenderest  interest  warm  his 
5 


66  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

bosom,  and  finally  enthrall  his  whole  soul,'  made 
one  vigorous  and  valiant  effort  to  free  himself 
from  a  hopeless  and  consuming  attachment.  My 
mother  counseled  him,  I  believe,  for  the  best, 
and  he  left  Dresden  on  an  expedition  of  several 
weeks  into  a  country  he  had  long  wished  to  see, 
though,  in  the  main,  it  disappointed  him  ;  and 
he  started  with  young  Colbourne  (son  of  Gen 
eral  Colbourne)  as  his  companion.  Some  of  his 
letters  on  this  journey  are  before  the  public ; 
and  in  the  agitation  and  eagerness  he  there  de 
scribed,  on  receiving  and  opening  letters  from 
us,  and  the  tenderness  in  his  replies,  —  the  long 
ing  to  be  once  more  in  the  little  Pavilion,  to 
which  we  had  moved  in  the  beginning  of  the 
summer,  —  the  letters  (though  carefully  guarded 
by  the  delicacy  of  her  who  intrusted  them  to  the 
editor,  and  alone  retained  among  many  more 
calculated  to  lay  bare  his  true  feelings),  even 
fragmentary  as  they  are,  point  out  the  truth. 

"  Here  is  the  key  to  the  journey  to  Silesia, 
the  return  to  Dresden,  and,  finally,  to  the  jour 
ney  from  Dresden  to  Rotterdam  in  our  company, 
first  planned  so  as  to  part  at  Cassel,  where  Mr. 
Irving  had  intended  to  leave  us  and  go  down  the 
Rhine,  but  subsequently  could  not  find  in  his 
heart  to  part.  Hence,  after  a  night  of  pale  and 
speechless  melancholy,  the  gay,  animated,  happy 
countenance  with  which  he  sprang  to  our  coach- 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  67 

box  to  take  his  old  seat  on  it,  and  accompany  us 
to  Rotterdam.  There  even  could  he  not  part, 
but  joined  us  in  the  steamboat ;  and,  after  bear 
ing  us  company  as  far  as  a  boat  could  follow  us, 
at  last  tore  himself  away,  to  bury  himself  in 
Paris,  and  try  to  work.  .  .  . 

"  It  was  fortunate,  perhaps,  that  this  affection 
was  returned  by  the  warmest  friendship  only, 
since  it  was  destined  that  the  accomplishment 
of  his  wishes  was  impossible,  for  many  obstacles 
which  lay  in  his  way ;  and  it  is  with  pleasure  I 
can  truly  say  that  in  time  he  schooled  himself  to 
view,  also  with  friendship  only,  one  who  for 
some  time  past  has  been  the  wife  of  another." 

Upon  the  delicacy  of  this  revelation  the 
biographer  does  not  comment,  but  he  says 
that  tbe  idea  that  Irving  thought  of  mar 
riage  at  tbat  time  is  utterly  disproved  by 
the  following  passage  from  the  very  manu 
script  which  be  submitted  to  Mrs.  Fos 
ter  :  — 

"  You  wonder  why  I  am  not  married.  I  have 
shown  you  why  I  was  not  long  since.  When  I 
had  sufficiently  recovered  from  that  loss,  I  be 
came  involved  in  ruin.  It  was  not  for  a  man 
broken  down  in  the  world,  to  drag  down  any 
woman  to  his  paltry  circumstances.  I  was  too 
proud  to  tolerate  the  idea  of  ever  mending  my 


68  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

circumstances  by  matrimony.  My  time  has  now 
gone  by ;  and  I  have  growing  claims  upon  my 
thoughts  and  upon  my  means,  slender  and  pre 
carious  as  they  are.  I  feel  as  if  I  already  had  a 
family  to  think  and  provide  for." 

Upon  the  question  of  attachment  and  de 
pression,  Mr.  Pierre  Irving  says  :  — 

"  While  the  editor  does  not  question  Mr.  Ir- 
ving's  great  enjoyment  of  his  intercourse  with 
the  Fosters,  or  his  deep  regret  at  parting  from 
them,  he  is  too  familiar  with  his  occasional  fits 
of  depression  to  have  drawn  from  their  recur 
rence  on  his  return  to  Paris  any  such  inference 
as  that  to  which  the  lady  alludes.  Indeed,  his 
*  memorandum  book '  and  letters  show  him  to 
have  had,  at  this  time,  sources  of  anxiety  of 
quite  a  different  nature.  The  allusion  to  his 
having  *  to  put  once  more  to  sea '  evidently 
refers  to  his  anxiety  on  returning  to  his  liter 
ary  pursuits,  after  a  season  of  entire  idleness." 

It  is  not  for  us  to  question  the  judgment 
of  the  biographer,  with  his  full  knowledge 
of  the  circumstances  and  his  long  intimacy 
with  his  uncle  ;  yet  it  is  evident  that  Irving 
was  seriously  impressed  at  Dresden,  and 
that  he  was  very  much  unsettled  until  he 
drove  away  the  impression  by  hard  work 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  69 

with  his  pen  ;  and  it  would  be  nothing  new 
in  human  nature  and  experience  if  he  had 
for  a  time  yielded  to  the  attractions  of  love 
liness  and  a  most  congenial  companionship, 
and  had  returned  again  to  an  exclusive 
devotion  to  the  image  of  the  early  loved 
and  lost. 

That  Irving  intended  never  to  marry  is 
an  inference  I  cannot  draw  either  from  his 
fondness  for  the  society  of  women,  from  his 
interest  in  the  matrimonial  projects  of  his 
friends  and  the  gossip  which  has  feminine 
attractions  for  its  food,  or  from  his  letters 
to  those  who  had  his  confidence.  In  a  letter 
written  from  Birmingham,  England,  March 
15,  1816,  to  his  dear  friend  Henry  Bre- 
voort,  who  was  permitted  more  than  per 
haps  any  other  person  to  see  his  secret 
heart,  he  alludes,  with  gratification,  to  the 
report  of  the  engagement  of  James  Paul- 
ding,  and  then  says :  — 

"  It  is  what  we  must  all  come  to  at  last.  I  see 
you  are  hankering  after  it,  and  I  confess  I  have 
done  so  for  a  long  time  past.  We  are,  however, 
past  that  period  [Irving  was  thirty-two]  when  a 
man  marries  suddenly  and  inconsiderately.  We 
may  be  longer  making  a  choice,  and  consulting 


70  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

the  convenience  and  concurrence  of  easy  circum 
stances,  but  we  shall  both  come  to  it  sooner  or 
later.  I  therefore  recommend  you  to  marry 
without  delay.  You  have  sufficient  means,  con 
nected  with  your  knowledge  and  habits  of  busi 
ness,  to  support  a  genteel  establishment,  and  I 
am  certain  that  as  soon  as  you  are  married  you 
will  experience  a  change  in  your  ideas.  All 
those  vagabond,  roving  propensities  will  cease. 
They  are  the  offspring  of  idleness  of  mind  and 
a  want  of  something  to  fix  the  feelings.  You 
are  like  a  bark  without  an  anchor,  that  drifts 
about  at  the  mercy  of  every  vagrant  breeze  or 
trifling  eddy.  Get  a  wife,  and  she  '11  anchor  you. 
But  don't  marry  a  fool  because  she  has  a  pretty 
face,  and  don't  seek  after  a  great  belle.  Get 

such  a  girl  as  Mary ,  or  get  her  if  you  can  ; 

though  I  am  afraid  she  has  still  an  unlucky  kind 
ness  for  poor ,  which  will  stand  in  the  way 

of  her  fortunes.  I  wish  to  God  they  were  rich, 
and  married,  and  happy !  " 

The  business  reverses  which  befell  the 
Irving  brothers,  and  which  drove  Washing 
ton  to  the  toil  of  the  pen,  and  cast  upon  him 
heavy  family  responsibilities,  defeated  his 
plans  of  domestic  happiness  in  marriage. 
It  was  in  this  same  year,  1816,  when  the 
fortunes  of  the  firm  were  daily  becoming 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  71 

more  dismal,  that  he  wrote  to  Brevoort, 
upon  the  report  that  the  latter  was  likely 
to  remain  a  bachelor  :  "  We  are  all  selfish 
beings.  Fortune  by  her  tardy  favors  and 
capricious  freaks  seems  to  discourage  all  my 
matrimonial  resolves,  and  if  I  am  doomed  to 
live  an  old  bachelor,  I  am  anxious  to  have 
good  company.  I  cannot  bear  that  all  my 
old  companions  should  launch  away  into  the 
married  state,  and  leave  me  alone  to  tread 
this  desolate  and  sterile  shore."  And,  in 
view  of  a  possible  life  of  scant  fortune,  he 
exclaims  :  "  Thank  Heaven,  I  was  brought 
up  in  simple  and  inexpensive  habits,  and  I 
have  satisfied  myself  that,  if  need  be,  I 
can  resume  them  without  repining  or  incon 
venience.  Though  I  am  willing,  therefore, 
that  Fortune  should  shower  her  blessings 
upon  me,  and  think  I  can  enjoy  them  as 
well  as  most  men,  yet  I  shall  not  make  my 
self  unhappy  if  she  chooses  to  be  scanty, 
and  shall  take  the  position  allotted  me  with 
a  cheerful  and  contented  mind." 

When  Irving  passed  the  winter  of  1823 
in  the  charming  society  of  the  Fosters  at 
Dresden,  the  success  of  the  "  Sketch-Book  " 
and  "  Bracebridge  Hall  "  had  given  him  as- 


72  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

surance  of  his  ability  to  live  comfortably  by 
the  use  of  his  pen. 

To  resume.  The  preliminary  announce 
ment  of  the  History  was  a  humorous  and 
skillful  piece  of  advertising.  Notices  ap 
peared  in  the  newspapers  of  the  disappear 
ance  from  his  lodging  of  "  a  small,  elderly 
gentleman,  dressed  in  an  old  black  coat  and 
cocked  hat,  by  the  name  of  Knickerbocker." 
Paragraphs  from  week  to  week,  purporting 
to  be  the  result  of  inquiry,  elicited  the  facts 
that  such  an  old  gentleman  had  been  seen 
traveling  north  in  the  Albany  stage ;  that 
his  name  was  Diedrich  Knickerbocker ;  that 
he  went  away  owing  his  landlord  ;  and  that 
he  left  behind  a  very  curious  kind  of  a  writ 
ten  book,  which  would  be  sold  to  pay  his  bills 
if  he  did  not  return.  So  skillfully  was  this 
managed  that  one  of  the  city  officials  was  on 
the  point  of  offering  a  reward  for  the  discov 
ery  of  the  missing  Diedrich.  This  little  man 
in  knee-breeches  and  cocked  hat  was  the 
germ  of  the  whole  "  Knickerbocker  legend," 
a  fantastic  creation,  which  in  a  manner  took 
the  place  of  history,  and  stamped  upon  the 
commercial  metropolis  of  the  New  World 
the  indelible  Knickerbocker  name  and  char- 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  73 

acter  ;  and  even  now  in  the  city  it  is  an  un 
defined  patent  of  nobility  to  trace  descent 
from  "  an  old  Knickerbocker  family." 

The  volume,  which  was  first  printed  in 
Philadelphia,  was  put  forth  as  a  grave  his 
tory  of  the  manners  and  government  under 
the  Dutch  rulers,  and  so  far  was  the  covert 
humor  carried  that  it  was  dedicated  to  the 
New  York  Historical  Society.  Its  success 
was  far  beyond  Irving's  expectation.  It 
met  with  almost  universal  acclaim.  It  is 
true  that  some  of  the  old  Dutch  inhabitants 
who  sat  down  to  its  perusal,  expecting  to 
read  a  veritable  account  of  the  exploits  of 
their  ancestors,  were  puzzled  by  the  indi 
rection  of  its  commendation ;  and  several 
excellent  old  ladies  of  New  York  and  Al 
bany  were  in  blazing  indignation  at  the 
ridicule  put  upon  the  old  Dutch  people, 
and  minded  to  ostracize  the  irreverent  au 
thor  from  all  social  recognition.  As  late 
as  1818,  in  an  address  before  the  Historical 
Society,  Mr.  Gulian  C.  Verplanck,  Irving's 
friend,  showed  the  deep  irritation  the  book 
had  caused,  by  severe  strictures  on  it  as  a 
"  coarse  caricature."  But  the  author's  win 
ning  ways  soon  dissipated  the  social  cloud, 


74  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

and  even  the  Dutch  critics  were  erelong 
disarmed  by  the  absence  of  all  malice  in  the 
gigantic  humor  of  the  composition.  One 
of  the  first  foreigners  to  recognize  the  power 
and  humor  of  the  book  was  Walter  Scott. 
"I  have  never,"  he  wrote,  "read  anything 
so  closely  resembling  the  style  of  Dean 
Swift  as  the  annals  of  Diedrich  Knicker 
bocker.  I  have  been  employed  these  few 
evenings  in  reading  them  aloud  to  Mrs.  S. 
and  two  ladies  who  are  our  guests,  and  our 
sides  have  been  absolutely  sore  with  laugh 
ing.  I  think,  too,  there  are  passages  which 
indicate  that  the  author  possesses  power  of 
a  different  kind,  and  has  some  touches  which 
remind  me  of  Sterne." 

The  book  is  indeed  an  original  creation, 
and  one  of  the  few  masterpieces  of  humor. 
In  spontaneity,  freshness,  breadth  of  con 
ception,  and  joyous  vigor,  it  belongs  to  the 
spring-time  of  literature.  It  has  entered 
into  the  popular  mind  as  no  other  American 
book  ever  has,  and  it  may  be  said  to  have 
created  a  social  realm  which,  with  all  its 
whimsical  conceit,  has  almost  historical  so 
lidity.  The  Knickerbocker  pantheon  is  al 
most  as  real  as  that  of  Olympus.  The  in- 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  75 

troductovy  chapters  are  of  that  elephantine 
facetiousness  which  pleased  our  great-grand 
fathers,  but  which  is  exceedingly  tedious  to 
modern  taste ;  and  the  humor  of  the  book 
occasionally  has  a  breadth  that  is  indelicate 
to  our  apprehension,  though  it  perhaps  did 
not  shock  our  great-grandmothers.  But, 
notwithstanding  these  blemishes,  I  think 
the  work  has  more  enduring  qualities  than 
even  the  generation  which  it  first  delighted 
gave  it  credit  for.  The  world,  however,  it 
must  be  owned,  has  scarcely  yet  the  cour 
age  of  its  humor,  and  dullness  still  thinks 
it  necessary  to  apologize  for  anything  amus 
ing.  There  is  little  doubt  that  Irving  him 
self  supposed  that  his  serious  work  was  of 
more  consequence  to  the  world. 

It  seems  strange  that  after  this  success 
Irving  should  have  hesitated  to  adopt  liter 
ature  as  his  profession.  But  for  two  years, 
and  with  leisure,  he  did  nothing.  He  had 
again  some  hope  of  political  employment  in 
a  small  way  ;  and  at  length  he  entered  into 
a  mercantile  partnership  with  his  brothers, 
which  was  to  involve  little  work  for  him, 
and  a  share  of  the  profits  that  should  assure 
his  support,  and  leave  him  free  to  follow 


76  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

his  fitful  literary  inclinations.  Yet  he  seems 
to  have  been  mainly  intent  upon  society  and 
the  amusements  of  the  passing  hour,  and, 
without  the  spur  of  necessity  to  his  literary 
capacity,  he  yielded  to  the  temptations  of 
indolence,  and  settled  into  the  unpromising 
position  of  a  "man  about  town."  Occa 
sionally,  the  business  of  his  firm  and  that  of 
other  importing  merchants  being  imperiled 
by  some  threatened  action  of  Congress,  Ir 
ving  was  sent  to  Washington  to  look  after 
their  interests.  The  leisurely  progress  he 
always  made  to  the  capital  through  the 
seductive  society  of  Philadelphia  and  Bal 
timore  did  not  promise  much  business  dis 
patch.  At  the  seat  of  government  he  was 
certain  to  be  involved  in  a  whirl  of  gayety. 
His  letters  from  Washington  are  more  oc 
cupied  with  the  odd  characters  he  met  than 
with  the  measures  of  legislation.  These 
visits  greatly  extended  his  acquaintance 
with  the  leading  men  of  the  country;  his 
political  leanings  did  not  prevent  an  inti 
macy  with  the  President's  family,  and  Mrs. 
Madison  and  he  were  sworn  friends. 

It  was  of  the  evening  of  his  first  arrival 
in  Washington  that  he  writes :  "  I  emerged 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  77 

from  dirt  and  darkness  into  the  blazing 
splendor  of  Mrs.  Madison's  drawing-room. 
Here  I  was  most  graciously  received ;  found 
a  crowded  collection  of  great  and  little  men, 
of  ugly  old  women  and  beautiful  young 
ones,  and  in  ten  minutes  was  hand  and 
glove  with  half  the  people  in  the  assem 
blage.  Mrs.  Madison  is  a  fine,  portly, 
buxom  dame,  who  has  a  smile  and  a  pleas 
ant  word  for  everybody.  Her  sisters,  Mrs. 
Cutts  and  Mrs.  Washington,  are  like  two 
merry  wives  of  Windsor;  but  as  to  Jemmy 
Madison,  —  oh,  poor  Jemmy  !  —  he  is  but  a 
withered  little  apple-John." 

Odd  characters  congregated  then  in 
Washington  as  now.  One  honest  fellow, 
who,  by  faithful  fagging  at  the  heels  of 
Congress,  had  obtained  a  profitable  post 
under  government,  shook  Irving  heartily 
by  the  hand,  and  professed  himself  alwa}7s 
happy  to  see  anybody  that  came  from  New 
York ;  "  somehow  or  another,  it  was  nat 
ter  al  to  him,"  being  the  place  where  he  was 
first  born.  Another  fellow-townsman  was 
"endeavoring  to  obtain  a  deposit  in  the 
Mechanics'  Bank,  in  case  the  United  States 
Bank  does  not  obtain  a  charter.  He  is  as 


78  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

deep  as  usual ;  shakes  his  head  and  winks 
through  his  spectacles  at  everybody  he 
meets.  He  swore  to  me  the  other  day  that 
he  had  not  told  anybody  what  his  opinion 
was,  —  whether  the  bank  ought  to  have  a 
charter  or  not.  Nobody  in  Washington 
knew  what  his  opinion  was  —  not  one  — 
nobody ;  he  defied  any  one  to  say  what  it 
was  —  4  anybody  —  damn  the  one  !  No,  sir, 
nobody  knows ; '  and  if  he  had  added  nobody- 
cares,  I  believe  honest  would  have 

been  exactly  in  the  right.  Then  there  's 
his  brother  George  :  '  Damn  that  fellow,  — 
knows  eight  or  nine  languages ;  yes,  sir, 
nine  languages,  —  Arabic,  Spanish,  Greek, 
Ital  —  And  there  's  his  wife,  now,  —  she 
and  Mrs.  Madison  are  always  together.  Mrs. 
Madison  has  taken  a  great  fancy  to  her  lit 
tle  daughter.  Only  think,  sir,  that  child  is 
only  six  years  old,  and  talks  the  Italian  like 

a  book,  by ;  little  devil  learnt  it  from 

an  Italian  servant,  —  damned  clever  fellow ; 
lived  with  my  brother  George  ten  years. 
George  says  he  would  not  part  with  him 
for  all  Tripoli,'  "  etc. 

It  was  always  difficult  for  Irving,  in  those 
days,  to  escape  from  the  genial  blandish- 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  79 

ments  of  Baltimore  and  Philadelphia. 
Writing  to  Brevoort  from  Philadelphia, 
March  16,  1811,  he  says :  u  The  people  of 
Baltimore  are  exceedingly  social  and  hos 
pitable  to  strangers,  and  I  saw  that  if  I  once 
let  myself  get  into  the  stream  I  should  not 
be  able  to  get  out  under  a  fortnight  at 
least ;  so,  being  resolved  to  push  home  as 
expeditiously  as  was  honorably  possible,  I 
resisted  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil  at 
Baltimore  ;  and  after  three  days'  and  nights' 
stout  carousal,  and  a  fourth's  sickness,  sor 
row,  and  repentance,  I  hurried  off  from  that 
sensual  city." 

Jarvis,  the  artist,  was  at  that  time  the 
eccentric  and  elegant  lion  of  society  in  Bal 
timore.  "  Jack  Randolph "  had  recently 
sat  to  him  for  his  portrait.  "  By  the  bye 
[the  letter  continues]  that  little  4  hydra 
and  chimera  dire,'  Jarvis,  is  in  prodigious 
circulation  at  Baltimore.  The  gentlemen 
have  all  voted  him  a  rare  wag  and  most 
brilliant  wit ;  and  the  ladies  pronounce  him 
one  of  the  queerest,  ugliest,  most  agreeable 
little  creatures  in  the  world.  The  conse 
quence  is  there  is  not  a  ball,  tea-party,  con 
cert,  supper,  or  other  private  regale  but  that 


80  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

Jarvis  is  the  most  conspicuous  personage; 
and  as  to  a  dinner,  they  can  no  more  do  with 
out  him  than  they  could  without  Friar  John 
at  the  roystering  revels  of  the  renowned  Pan- 
tagruel."  Irving  gives  one  of  his  bon  mots 
which  was  industriously  repeated  at  all  the 
dinner  tables,  a  profane  sally,  which  seemed 
to  tickle  the  Baltimoreans  exceedingly.  Be 
ing  very  much  importuned  to  go  to  church, 
he  resolutely  refused,  observing  that  it  was 
the  same  thing  whether  he  went  or  stayed 
at  home.  "If  I  don't  go,"  said  he,  uthe 

minister  says  I  '11  be  d d,  and  I  '11  be 

d d  if  I  do  go." 

This  same  letter  contains  a  pretty  pict 
ure,  and  the  expression  of  Irving's  habit 
ual  kindly  regard  for  his  fellow-men  :  — 

"  I  was  out  visiting  with  Ann  yesterday,  and 
met  that  little  assemblage  of  smiles  and  fascina 
tions,  Mary  Jackson.  She  was  bounding  with 
youth,  health,  and  innocence,  and  good  humor. 
She  had  a  pretty  straw  hat,  tied  under  her  chin 
with  a  pink  ribbon,  and  looked  like  some  little 
woodland  nymph,  just  turned  out  by  spring  and 
fine  weather.  God  bless  her  light  heart,  and 
grant  it  may  never  know  care  or  sorrow  !  It 's 
enough  to  cure  spleen  and  melancholy  only  to 
look  at  her. 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  81 

"  Your  familiar  pictures  of  home  made  me  ex 
tremely  desirous  again  to  be  there.  ...  I  shall 
once  more  return  to  sober  life,  satisfied  with  hav 
ing  secured  three  months  of  sunshine  in  this  val 
ley  of  shadows  and  darkness.  In  this  space  of 
time  I  have  seen  considerable  of  the  world,  but  I 
am  sadly  afraid  I  have  not  grown  wiser  thereby, 
inasmuch  as  it  has  generally  been  asserted  by  the 
sages  of  every  age  that  wisdom  consists  in  a 
knowledge  of  the  wickedness  of  mankind,  and 
the  wiser  a  man  grows  the  more  discontented  he 
becomes  with  those  around  him.  Whereas,  woe 
is  me,  I  return  in  infinitely  better  humor  with 
the  world  than  I  ever  was  before,  and  with  a 
most  melancholy  good  opinion  and  good  will  for 
the  great  mass  of  my  fellow-creatures ! " 

Free  intercourse  with,  men  of  all  parties, 
he  thought,  tends  to  divest  a  man's  mind  of 
party  bigotry. 

t 

"  One  day  [he  writes]  I  am  dining  with  a  knot 

of  honest,  furious  Federalists,  who  are  damning 
all  their  opponents  as  a  set  of  consummate  scoun 
drels,  panders  of  Bonaparte,  etc.  The  next  day 
I  dine,  perhaps,  with  some  of  the  very  men  I 
have  heard  thus  anathematized,  and  find  them 
equally  honest,  warm,  and  indignant ;  and  if  I 
take  their  word  for  it,  I  had  been  dining  the  day 


82  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

before  with  some  of  the  greatest  knaves  in  the 
nation,  men  absolutely  paid  and  suborned  by  the 
British  government." 

His  friends  at  this  time  attempted  to  get 
him  appointed  secretary  of  legation  to  the 
French  mission,  under  Joel  Barlow,  then 
minister,  but  he  made  no  effort  to  secure 
the  place.  Perhaps  he  was  deterred  by  the 
knowledge  that  the  author  of  "  The  Colum- 
biad"  suspected  him,  though  unjustly,  of 
some  strictures  on  his  great  epic.  He  had 
in  mind  a  book  of  travel  in  his  own  coun 
try,  in  which  he  should  sketch  manners  and 
characters  ;  but  nothing  came  of  it.  The 
peril  to  trade  involved  in  the  War  of  1812 
gave  him  some  forebodings,  and  aroused  him 
to  exertion.  He  accepted  the  editorship  of 
a  periodical  called  "  Select  Reviews,"  after 
wards  changed  to  the  "  Analectic  Maga 
zine,"  for  which  he  wrote  sketches,  some  of 
which  were  afterwards  put  into  the  "  Sketch- 
Book,"  and  several  reviews  and  naval  biog 
raphies.  A  brief  biography  of  Thomas 
Campbell  was  also  written  about  this  time, 
as  introductory  to  an  edition  of  "  Gertrude 
of  Wyoming."  But  the  slight  editorial  care 
required  by  the  magazine  was  irksome  to  a 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  83 

man  who  had  an  unconquerable  repugnance 
to  all  periodical  labor. 

In  1813  Francis  Jeffrey  made  a  visit  to 
the  United  States.  Henry  Brevoort,  who 
was  then  in  London,  wrote  an  anxious  let 
ter  to  Irving  to  impress  him  with  the  neces 
sity  of  making  much  of  Mr.  Jeffrey.  "  It 
is  essential,"  he  says,  "that  Jeffrey  may 
imbibe  a  just  estimate  of  the  United  States 
and  its  inhabitants;  he  goes  out  strongly 
biased  in  our  favor,  and  the  influence  of  his 
good  opinion  upon  his  return  to  this  coun 
try  will  go  far  to  efface  the  calumnies  and 
the  absurdities  that  have  been  laid  to  our 
charge  by  ignorant  travelers.  Persuade  him 
to  visit  Washington,  and  by  all  means  to 
see  the  Falls  of  Niagara."  The  impression 
seems  to  have  prevailed  that  if  Englishmen 
could  be  made  to  take  a  just  view  of  the 
Falls  of  Niagara  the  misunderstandings  be 
tween  the  two  countries  would  be  reduced. 
Peter  Irving,  who  was  then  in  Edinburgh, 
was  impressed  with  the  brilliant  talent  of 
the  editor  of  the  "  Review,"  disguised  as  it 
was  by  affectation,  but  he  said  he  "  would 
not  give  the  Minstrel  for  a  wilderness  of 
Jeffreys." 


84  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

The  years  from  1811  to  1815,  when  he 
went  abroad  for  the  second  time,  were  passed 
by  Irving  in  a  sort  of  humble  waiting  on 
Providence.  His  letters  to  Brevoort  during 
this  period  are  full  of  the  ennui  of  irresolute 
youth.  He  idled  away  weeks  and  months 
in  indolent  enjoyment  in  the  country ;  he 
indulged  his  passion  for  the  theatre  when 
opportunity  offered;  and  he  began  to  be 
weary  of  a  society  which  offered  little  stim 
ulus  to  his  mind.  His  was  the  temperament 
of  the  artist,  and  America  at  that  time  had 
little  to  evoke  or  to  satisfy  the  artistic  feel 
ing.  There  were  few  pictures  and  no  gal 
leries  ;  there  was  no  music,  except  the  ama 
teur  torture  of  strings  which  led  the  coun 
try  dance,  or  the  martial  inflammation  of 
fife  and  drum,  or  the  sentimental  dawdling 
here  and  there  over  the  ancient  harpsi 
chord,  with  the  songs  of  love,  and  the  broad 
or  pathetic  staves  and  choruses  of  the  con 
vivial  table ;  and  there  was  no  literary  at 
mosphere. 

After  three  months  of  indolent  enjoyment 
in  the  winter  and  spring  of  1811,  Irving  is 
complaining  to  Brevoort  in  June  of  the  en 
ervation  of  his  social  life :  "  I  do  want  most 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  85 

deplorably  to  apply  my  mind  to  something 
that  will  arouse  and  animate  it ;  for  at  pres 
ent  it  is  very  indolent  and  relaxed,  and  I 
find  it  very  difficult  to  shake  off  the  leth 
argy  that  enthralls  it.  This  makes  me  rest 
less  and  dissatisfied  with  myself,  and  I  am 
convinced  I  shall  not  feel  comfortable  and 
contented  until  my  mind  is  fully  employed. 
Pleasure  is  but  a  transient  stimulus,  and 
leaves  the  mind  more  enfeebled  than  before. 
Give  me  rugged  toils,  fierce  disputation, 
wrangling  controversy,  harassing  research, — 
give  me  anything  that  calls  forth  the  ener 
gies  of  the  mind ;  but  for  Heaven's  sake  shield 
me  from  those  calms,  those  tranquil  slum- 
berings,  those  enervating  triflings,  those  siren 
blandishments,  that  I  have  for  some  time 
indulged  in,  which  lull  the  mind  into  com 
plete  inaction,  which  benumb  its  powers, 
and  cost  it  such  painful  and  humiliating 
struggles  to  regain  its  activity  and  independ 
ence  ! " 

Irving  at  this  time  of  life  seemed  always 
waiting  by  the  pool  for  some  angel  to  come 
and  trouble  the  waters.  To  his  correspond 
ent,  who  was  in  the  wilds  of  Michilimack- 
inac,  he  continues  to  lament  his  morbid  in- 


86  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

ability.  The  business  in  which  his  thriving 
brothers  were  engaged  was  the  importation 
and  sale  of  hardware  and  cutlery,  and  that 
spring  his  services  were  required  at  the 
u  store."  "  By  all  the  martyrs  of  Grub 
Street  [he  exclaims],  I  'd  sooner  live  in  a 
garret,  and  starve  into  the  bargain,  than  fol 
low  so  sordid,  dusty,  and  soul-killing  a  way 
of  life,  though  certain  it  would  make  me  as 
rich  as  old  Croesus,  or  John  Jacob  Astor 
himself ! "  The  sparkle  of  society  was  no 
more  agreeable  to  him  than  the  rattle  of 
cutlery.  "  I  have  scarcely  [he  writes]  seen 
anything  of  the s  since  your  depart 
ure  ;  business  and  an  amazing  want  of  in 
clination  have  kept  me  from  their  threshold. 
Jim,  that  sly  poacher,  however,  prowls 
about  there,  and  vitrifies  his  heart  by  the 
furnace  of  their  charms.  I  accompanied 
him  there  on  Sunday  evening  last,  and  found 

the  Lads  and  Miss  Knox  with  them.   S 

was  in  great  spirits,  and  played  the  sparkler 
with  such  great  success  as  to  silence  the 
whole  of  us  excepting  Jim,  who  was  the 
agreeable  rattle  of  the  evening.  God  defend 
me  from  such  vivacity  as  hers,  in  future, — 
such  smart  speeches  without  meaning,  such 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  87 

bubble  and  squeak  nonsense  !  I  'd  as  lieve 
stand  by  a  frying-pan  for  an  hour  and  listen 
to  the  cooking  of  apple  fritters.  After  two 
hours'  dead  silence  and  suffering  on  my  part 
I  made  out  to  drag  him  off,  and  did  not  stop 
running  until  I  was  a  mile  from  the  house." 
Irving  gives  his  correspondent  graphic  pict 
ures  of  the  social  warfare  in  which  he  was 
engaged,  the  "  host  of  rascally  little  tea- 
parties  "  in  which  he  was  entangled ;  and 
some  of  his  portraits  of  the  "  divinities,"  the 
4 'blossoms,"  and  the  beauties  of  that  day 
would  make  the  subjects  of  them  flutter  with 
surprise  in  the  church-yards  where  they  lie. 
The  writer  was  sated  with  the  "  tedious 
commonplace  of  fashionable  society,"  and 
languishing  to  return  to  his  books  and  his 
pen. 

In  March,  1812,  in  the  shadow  of  the  war 
and  the  depression  of  business,  Irving  was 
getting  out  a  new  edition  of  the  "  Knicker 
bocker,"  which  Inskeep  was  to  publish, 
agreeing  to  pay  $1,200  at  six  months  for 
an  edition  of  fifteen  hundred.  The  modern 
publisher  had  not  then  arisen  and  acquired 
a  proprietary  right  in  the  brains  of  the 
country,  and  the  author  made  his  bargains 


88  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

like  an  independent  being  who  owned  him 
self. 

Irving's  letters  of  this  period  are  full  of 
the  gossip  of  the  town  and  the  matrimonial 
fate  of  his  acquaintances.  The  fascinating 
Mary  Fairlie  is  at  length  married  to  Cooper, 
the  tragedian,  with  the  opposition  of  her 
parents,  after  a  dismal  courtship  and  a 
cloudy  prospect  of  happiness.  "  Goodhue 
is  engaged  to  Miss  Clarkson,  the  sister  to 
the  pretty  one.  The  engagement  suddenly 
took  place  as  they  walked  from  church  on 
Christmas  Day,  and  report  says  the  action 
was  shorter  than  any  of  our  naval  victories, 
for  the  lady  struck  on  the  first  broadside." 
The  war  colored  all  social  life  and  con 
versation.  "  This  war  [the  letter  is  to  Bre- 
voort,  who  is  in  Europe]  has  completely 
changed  the  face  of  things  here.  You  would 
scarcely  recognize  our  old  peaceful  city. 
Nothing  is  talked  of  but  armies,  navies,  bat 
tles,  etc."  The  same  phenomenon  was  wit 
nessed  then  that  was  observed  in  the  war 
for  the  Union  :  "  Men  who  had  loitered 
about,  the  hangers-on  and  encumbrances  of 
society,  have  all  at  once  risen  to  importance, 
and  been  the  only  useful  men  of  the  day." 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  89 

The  exploits  of  our  young  navy  kept  up  the 
spirits  of  the  country.  There  was  great  re 
joicing  when  the  captured  frigate  Macedo 
nian  was  brought  into  New  York,  and  was 
visited  by  the  curious  as  she  lay  wind-bound 
above  Hell  Gate.  "A  superb  dinner  was 
given  to  the  naval  heroes,  at  which  all  the 
great  eaters  and  drinkers  of  the  city  were 
present.  It  was  the  noblest  entertainment 
of  the  kind  I  ever  witnessed.  On  New 
Year's  Eve  a  grand  ball  was  likewise  given, 
where  there  was  a  vast  display  of  great  and 
little  people.  The  Livingstons  were  there 
in  all  their  'glory.  Little  Rule  Britannia 
made  a  gallant  appearance  at  the  head  of  a 
train  of  beauties,  among  whom  were  the  di 
vine  H ,  who  looked  very  inviting,  and 

the  little  Taylor,  who  looked  still  more  so. 
Britannia  was  gorgeously  dressed  in  a  queer 
kind  of  hat  of  stiff  purple  and  silver  stuff, 
that  had  marvelously  the  appearance  of  cop 
per,  and  made  us  suppose  that  she  had  pro 
cured  the  real  Mambrino  helmet.  Her  dress 
was  trimmed  with  what  we  simply  mistook 
for  scalps,  and  supposed  it  was  in  honor  of 
the  nation  ;  but  we  blushed  at  our  ignorance 
on  discovering  that  it  was  a  gorgeous  trim- 


90  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

ming  of  marten  tips.  Would  that  some  em 
inent  furrier  had  been  there  to  wonder  and 
admire !  " 

With  a  little  business  and  a  good  deal  of 
loitering,  waiting  upon  the  whim  of  his  pen, 
Irving  passed  the  weary  months  of  the  war. 
As  late  as  August,  1814,  he  is  still  giving 
Brevoort,  who  has  returned,  and  is  at  Rock- 
away  Beach,  the  light  gossip  of  the  town. 
It  was  reported  that  Brevoort  and  Dennis 
had  kept  a  journal  of  their  foreign  travel, 
"  which  is  so  exquisitely  humorous  that  Mrs. 
Cooper,  on  only  looking  at  the  first  word,  fell 
into  a  fit  of  laughing  that  lasted  half  an 
hour."  Irving  is  glad  that  he  cannot  find 
Brevoort's  flute,  which  the  latter  requested 
should  be  sent  to  him  :  "  I  do  not  think  it 
would  be  an  innocent  amusement  for  you, 
as  no  one  has  a  right  to  entertain  himself 
at  the  expense  of  others."  In  such  dallying 
and  badinage  the  months  went  on,  affairs 
every  day  becoming  more  serious.  Append 
ed  to  a  letter  of  September  9, 1814,  is  a  list 
of  twenty  well-known  mercantile  houses 
that  had  failed  within  the  preceding  three 
weeks.  Irving  himself,  shortly  after  this, 
enlisted  in  the  war,  and  his  letters  there- 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  91 

after  breathe  patriotic  indignation  at  the  in 
sulting  proposals  of  the  British  and  their 
rumored  attack  on  New  York,  and  all  his 
similes,  even  those  having  love  for  their 
subject,  are  martial  and  bellicose.  Item: 
"  The  gallant  Sam  has  fairly  changed  front, 
and,  instead  of  laying  siege  to  Douglas  cas 
tle,  has  charged  sword  in  hand,  and  carried 
little  Cooper's  entrenchments." 

As  a  Federalist  and  an  admirer  of  Eng 
land,  Irving  had  deplored  the  war,  but  his 
sympathies  were  not  doubtful  after  it  be 
gan,  and  the  burning  of  the  national  Capitol 
by  General  Ross  aroused  him  to  an  active 
participation  in  the  struggle.  He  was  de 
scending  the  Hudson  in  a  steamboat  when 
the  tidings  first  reached  him.  It  was  night, 
and  the  passengers  had  gone  into  the  cabin, 
when  a  man  came  on  board  with  the  news, 
and  in  the  darkness  related  the  particulars  : 
the  burning  of  the  President's  house  and 
government  offices,  and  the  destruction  of 
the  Capitol,  with  the  library  and  public 
archives.  In  the  momentary  silence  that 
followed,  somebody  raised  his  voice,  and  in 
a  tone  of  complacent  derision  ''wondered 
what  Jimmy  Madison  would  say  now." 


92  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

"  Sir,"  cried  Mr.  Irving,  in  a  burst  of  in 
dignation  that  overcame  his  habitual  shy 
ness,  "  do  you  seize  upon  such  a  disaster 
only  for  a  sneer  ?  Let  me  tell  you,  sir,  it 
is  not  now  a  question  about  Jimmy  Madi 
son  or  Jimmy  Armstrong.  The  pride  and 
honor  of  the  nation  are  wounded ;  the  coun 
try  is  insulted  and  disgraced  by  this  bar 
barous  success,  and  every  loyal  citizen  would 
feel  the  ignominy  and  be  earnest  to  avenge 
it."  There  was  an  outburst  of  applause, 
and  the  sneerer  was  silenced.  "  I  could  not 
see  the  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Irving,  in  relating 
the  anecdote,  "  but  I  let  fly  at  him  in  the 
dark." 

The  next  day  he  offered  his  services  to 
Governor  Tompkins,  and  was  made  the 
governor's  aid  and  military  secretary,  with 
the  right  to  be  addressed  as  Col.  Washing 
ton  Irving.  He  served  only  four  months 
in  this  capacity,  when  Governor  Tompkins 
was  called  to  the  session  of  the  legislature 
at  Albany.  Irving  intended  to  go  to  Wash 
ington  and  apply  for  a  commission  in  the 
regular  army,  but  he  was  detained  at  Phil 
adelphia  by  the  affairs  of  his  magazine,  until 
news  came  in  February,  1815,  of  the  close 


THE  KNICKERBOCKER  PERIOD.  93 

of  the  war.  In  May  of  that  year  he  em 
barked  for  England  to  visit  his  brother,  in 
tending  only  a  short  sojourn.  He  remained 
abroad  seventeen  years. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

LIFE   IN   EUROPE:    LITERARY  ACTIVITY. 

WHEN  Irving  sailed  from  New  York,  it 
was  with  lively  anticipations  of  witnessing 
the  stirring  events  to  follow  the  return  of 
Bonaparte  from  Elba.  When  he  reached 
Liverpool  the  curtain  had  fallen  in  Bona 
parte's  theatre.  The  first  spectacle  that 
met  the  traveler's  eye  was  the  mail  coaches, 
darting  through  the  streets,  decked  with 
laurel  and  bringing  the  news  of  Waterloo. 
As  usual,  Irving's  sympathies  were  with 
the  unfortunate.  "  I  think,"  he  says,  writ 
ing  of  the  exile  of  St.  Helena,  "  the  cabinet 
has  acted  with  littleness  toward  him.  In 
spite  of  all  his  misdeeds  he  is  a  noble  fellow 
[pace  Madame  de  Remusat],  and  I  am  con 
fident  will  eclipse,  in  the  eyes  of  posterity, 
all  the  crowned  wiseacres  that  have  crushed 
him  by  their  overwhelming  confederacy.  If 
anything  could  place  the  Prince  Regent  in 
a  more  ridiculous  light,  it  is  Bonaparte  su- 


LIFE  IN  EUROPE.  95 

ing  for  his  magnanimous  protection.  Every 
compliment  paid  to  this  bloated  sensualist, 
this  inflation  of  sack  and  sugar,  turns  to 
the  keenest  sarcasm." 

After  staying  a  week  with  his  brother 
Peter,  who  was  recovering  from  an  indis 
position,  Irving  went  to  Birmingham,  the 
residence  of  his  brother-in-law,  Henry  Van 
Wart,  who  had  married  his  youngest  sister, 
Sarah;  and  from  thence  to  Sydenham,  to 
visit  Campbell.  The  poet  was  not  at  home. 
To  Mrs.  Campbell  Irving  expressed  his 
regret  that  her  husband  did  not  attempt 
something  on  a  grand  scale. 

"'It  is  unfortunate  for  Campbell,'  said  she, 
*  that  he  lives  in  the  same  age  with  Scott  and 
Byron.'  I  asked  why.  (  Oh,'  said  she,  '  they 
write  so  much  and  so  rapidly.  Mr.  Campbell 
writes  slowly,  and  it  takes  him  some  time  to  get 
under  way ;  and  just  as  he  has  fairly  begun  out 
comes  one  of  their  poems,  that  sets  the  world 
agog,  and  quite  daunts  him,  so  that  he  throws  by 
his  pen  in  despair.'  I  pointed  out  the  essential 
difference  in  their  kinds  of  poetry,  and  the  quali 
ties  which  insured  perpetuity  to  that  of  her  hus 
band.  '  You  can't  persuade  Campbell  of  that/ 
said  she.  '  He  is  apt  to  undervalue  his  own 


96  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

works,  and  to  consider  his  own  little  lights  put 
out,  whenever  they  come  blazing  out  with  their 
great  torches.' 

"  I  repeated  the  conversation  to  Scott  some  time 
afterward,  and  it  drew  forth  a  characteristic  com 
ment.  '  Pooh  ! '  said  he,  good  humoredly  ;  '  how 
can  Campbell  mistake  the  matter  so  much  ?  Po 
etry  goes  by  quality,  not  by  bulk.  My  poems  are 
mere  cairngorms,  wrought  up,  perhaps,  with  a  cun 
ning  hand,  and  may  pass  well  in  the  market  as 
long  as  cairngorms  are  the  fashion  ;  but  they  are 
mere  Scotch  pebbles,  after  all.  Now,  Tom  Camp 
bell's  are  real  diamonds,  and  diamonds  of  the 
first  water.' " 

Returning  to  Birmingham,  Irving  made  ex 
cursions  to  Kenilworth,  Warwick,  and  Strat 
ford -on -A  von,  and  a  tour  through  Wales 
with  James  Renwick,  a  young  American  of 
great  promise,  who  at  the  age  of  nineteen 
had  for  a  time  filled  the  chair  of  natural 
philosophy  in  Columbia  College.  He  was 
a  son  of  Mrs.  Jane  Renwick,  a  charming 
woman  and  a  life-long  friend  of  Irving,  the 
daughter  of  the  Rev.  Andrew  Jeffrey,  of 
Lochmaben,  Scotland,  and  famous  in  litera 
ture  as  "  The  Blue-Eyed  Lassie  "  of  Burns. 
From  another  song,  "  When  first  I  saw  my 


LIFE  IN  EUROPE.  97 

Jeanie's  Face,"  which  does  not  appear  in 
the  poet's  collected  works,  the  biographer 
quotes  :  — 

"  But,  sair,  I  doubt  some  happier  swain 

Has  gained  my  Jeauie's  favor ; 
If  sae,  may  every  bliss  be  hers, 
Tho'  I  can  never  have  her. 

"  But  gang  she  east,  or  gang  she  west, 

'Twixt  Nith  and  Tweed  all  over, 
While  men  have  eyes,  or  ears,  or  taste, 
She  11  always  find  a  lover." 

During  Irving's  protracted  stay  in  Eng 
land  he  did  not  by  any  means  lose  his  in 
terest  in  his  beloved  New  York  and  the  lit 
tle  society  that  was  always  dear  to  him.  He 
relied  upon  his  friend  Brevoort  to  give  him, 
the  news  of  the  town,  and  in  return  he 
wrote  long  letters, — longer  and  more  elab 
orate  and  formal  than  this  generation  has 
leisure  to  write  or  to  read ;  letters  in  which 
the  writer  laid  himself  out  to  be  entertain 
ing,  and  detailed  his  emotions  and  state  of 
mind  as  faithfully  as  his  travels  and  out 
ward  experiences. 

No  sooner  was  our  war  with  England 
over  than  our  navy  began  to  make  a  repu 
tation  for  itself  in  the  Mediterranean.  In 
7 


98  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

his  letter  of  August,  1815,  Irving  dwells 
with  pride  on  Decatur's  triumph  over  the 
Algerine  pirates.  He  had  just  received  a 
letter  from  that  "  worthy  little  tar,  Jack 
Nicholson,"  dated  on  board  the  Flambeau, 
off  Algiers.  In  it  Nicholson  says  that  "  they 
fell  in  with  and  captured  the  admiral's  ship, 
and  killed  him."  Upon  which  Irving  re 
marks  :  "  As  this  is  all  that  Jack's  brevity 
will  allow  him  to  say  on  the  subject,  I 
should  be  at  a  loss  to  know  whether  they 
killed  the  admiral  before  or  after  his  capt 
ure.  The  well-known  humanity  of  our 
tars,  however,  induces  me  to  the  former 
conclusion."  Nicholson,  who  has  the  honor 
of  being  alluded  to  in  "  The  Croakers,"  was 
always  a  great  favorite  with  Irving.  His 
gallantry  on  shore  was  equal  to  his  bravery 
at  sea,  but  unfortunately  his  diffidence  was 
greater  than  his  gallantry;  and  while  his 
susceptibility  to  female  charms  made  him  an 
easy  and  a  frequent  victim,  he  could  never 
muster  the  courage  to  declare  his  passion. 
Upon  one  occasion,  when  he  was  desper 
ately  enamored  of  a  lady  whom  he  wished  to 
marry,  he  got  Irving  to  write  for  him  a  love- 
letter,  containing  an  offer  of  his  heart  and 


LIFE  IN  EUROPE.  99 

Land.  The  enthralled  but  bashful  sailor 
carried  the  letter  in  his  pocket  till  it  was 
worn  out,  without  ever  being  able  to  sum 
mon  pluck  enough  to  deliver  it. 

While  Irving  was  in  Wales  the  Wig 
gins  family  and  Madame  Bonaparte  passed 
through  Birmingham,  on  their  way  to  Chel 
tenham.  Madame  was  still  determined  to 
assert  her  rights  as  a  Bonaparte.  Irving 
cannot  help  expressing  sympathy  for  Wig 
gins  :  "  The  poor  man  has  his  hands  full, 
with  such  a  bevy  of  beautiful  women  under 
his  charge,  and  all  doubtless  bent  on  pleas 
ure  and  admiration."  He  hears,  however, 
nothing  further  of  her,  except  the  newspa 
pers  mention  her  being  at  Cheltenham. 
"  There  are  so  many  stars  and  comets 
thrown  out  of  their  orbits,  and  whirling 
about  the  world  at  present,  that  a  little  star 
like  Madame  Bonaparte  attracts  but  slight 
attention,  even  though  she  draw  after  her 
so  sparkling  a  tail  as  the  Wiggins  family." 
In  another  letter  he  exclaims :  "  The  world 
is  surely  topsy-turvy,  and  its  inhabitants 
shaken  out  of  place  :  emperors  and  kings, 
statesmen  and  philosophers,  Bonaparte,  Al 
exander,  Johnson,  and  the  Wigginses,  all 
strolling  about  the  face  of  the  earth." 


100  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

The  business  of  the  Irving  brothers  soon 
absorbed  all  Washington's  time  and  atten 
tion.  Peter  was  an  invalid,  and  the  whole 
weight  of  the  perplexing  affairs  of  the  fail 
ing  firm  fell  upon  the  one  who  detested 
business,  and  counted  every  hour  lost  that  he 
gave  to  it.  His  letters  for  two  years  are  bur 
dened  with  harassments  in  uncongenial  de 
tails  and  unsuccessful  struggles.  Liverpool, 
where  he  was  compelled  to  pass  most  of  his 
time,  had  few  attractions  for  him,  and  his 
low  spirits  did  not  permit  him  to  avail  him 
self  of  such  social  advantages  as  were  of 
fered.  It  seems  that  our  enterprising  coun 
trymen  flocked  abroad,  on  the  conclusion  of 
peace.  "  This  place  [writes  Irving]  swarms 
with  Americans.  You  never  saw  a  more 
motley  race  of  beings.  Some  seem  as  if 
just  from  the  woods,  and  yet  stalk  about 
the  streets  and  public  places  with  all  the 
easy  nonchalance  that  they  would  about 
their  own  villages.  Nothing  can  surpass 
the  dauntless  independence  of  all  form,  cere 
mony,  fashion,  or  reputation  of  a  downright, 
unsophisticated  American.  Since  the  war, 
too,  particularly,  our  lads  seem  to  think 
they  are  '  the  salt  of  the  earth  '  and  the  le- 


LIFE  IN  EUROPE.  101 

gitimate  lords  of  creation.  It  would  de 
light  you  to  see  some  of  them  playing  In 
dian  when  surrounded  by  the  wonders  and 
improvements  of  the  Old  World.  It  is  im 
possible  to  match  these  fellows  by  anything 
this  side  the  water.  Let  an  Englishman 
talk  of  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  and  they 
will  immediately  bring  up  New  Orleans  and 
Plattsburg.  A  thoroughbred,  thoroughly 
appointed  soldier  is  nothing  to  a  Kentucky 
rifleman,"  etc.,  etc.  In  contrast  to  this 
sort  of  American  was  Charles  King,  who 
was  then  abroad  :  "  Charles  is  exactly  what 
an  American  should  be  abroad :  frank, 
manly,  and  unaffected  in  his  habits  and 
manners,  liberal  and  independent  in  his 
opinions,  generous  and  unprejudiced  in  his 
sentiments  towards  other  nations,  but  most 
loyally  attached  to  his  own."  There  was  a 
provincial  narrowness  at  that  date  and  long 
after  in  America,  which  deprecated  the 
open-minded  patriotism  of  King  and  of  Ir 
ving  as  it  did  the  clear-sighted  loyalty  of 
Fenimore  Cooper. 

The  most  anxious  time  of  Irving's  life 
was  the  winter  of  1815-16.  The  business 
worry  increased.  He  was  too  jaded  with 


102  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

the  din  of  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence  to 
permit  his  pen  to  invent  facts  or  to  adorn 
realities.     Nevertheless,  he  occasionally  es 
capes  from  the  tread-mill.    In  December  he 
is  in  London,  and  entranced  with  the  acting 
of  Miss  O'Neil.     He  thinks  that  Brevoort, 
if  he  saw  her,  would  infallibly  fall  in  love 
with  this  "  divine  perfection  of  a  woman." 
He  writes :  "  She  is,  to  my  eyes,  the  most 
soul-subduing  actress  I  ever  saw ;  I  do  not 
mean  from  her  personal  charms,  which  are 
great,  but  from  the  truth,  force,  and  pathos 
of  her  acting.     I  have  never  been  so  com 
pletely  melted,  moved,  and  overcome  at  a 
theatre  as  by  her  performances.  .   .  .   Kean, 
the  prodigy,  is  to  me  insufferable.     He  is 
vulgar,  full  of  trick,  and  a  complete  man 
nerist.     This  is  merely  my  opinion.     He  is 
cried  up  as  a  second  Garrick,  as  a  reformer 
of  the  stage,  etc.     It  may  be  so.     He  may 
be  right,   and   all  the  other  actors  wrong. 
This  is  certain  :  he  is  either  very  good  or 
very  bad.      I  think   decidedly  the   latter; 
and  I  find  no  medium  opinions  concerning 
him.     I  am  delighted  with  Young,  who  acts 
with   great   judgment,    discrimination,   and 
feeling.     I  think  him  much  the  best  actor 


LIFE  IN  EUROPE.  103 

at  present  on  the  English  stage.  ...  In  cer 
tain  characters,  such  as  may  be  classed  with 
Macbeth,  I  do  n6t  think  that  Cooper  lias 
his  equal  in  England.  Young  is  the  only 
actor  I  have  seen  who  can  compare  with 
him."  Later,  Irving  somewhat  modified  his 
opinion  of  Kean.  He  wrote  to  Brevoort : 
"  Kean  is  a  strange  compound  of  merits  and 
defects.  His  excellence  consists  in  sudden 
and  brilliant  touches,  in  vivid  exhibitions 
of  passion  and  emotion.  I  do  not  think  him 
a  discriminating  actor,  or  critical  either  at 
understanding  or  delineating  character ;  but 
he  produces  effects  which  no  other  actor 
does." 

In  the  summer  of  1816,  on  his  way  from 
Liverpool  to  visit  his  sister's  family  at  Bir 
mingham,  Irving  tarried  for  a  few  days  at 
a  country  place  near  Shrewsbury  on  the 
border  of  Wales,  and  while  there  encoun 
tered  a  character  whose  portrait  is  cleverly 
painted.  It  is  interesting  to  compare  this 
first  sketch  with  the  elaboration  of  it  in 
the  essay  on  The  Angler  in  the  "  Sketch- 
Book." 

"  In  one  of  our  morning  strolls  [he  writes, 
July  15th]  along  the  banks  of  the  Aleen,  a 


104  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

beautiful  little  pastoral  stream  that  rises  among 
the  Welsh  mountains  and  throws  itself  into  the 
Dee,  we  encountered  a  veteran  angler  of  old 
Isaac  Walton's  school.  He  was  an  old  Green 
wich  out-door  pensioner,  had  lost  one  leg  in  the 
battle  of  Camperdown,  had  been  in  America  in 
his  youth,  and  indeed  had  been  quite  a  rover, 
but  for  many  years  past  had  settled  himself  down 
in  his  native  village,  not  far  distant,  where  he 
lived  very  independently  on  his  pension  and  some 
other  small  annual  sums,  amounting  in  all  to 
about  £40.  His  great  hobby,  and  indeed  the 
business  of  his  life,  was  to  angle.  I  found  lie 
had  read  Isaac  Walton  very  attentively ;  he 
seemed  to  have  imbibed  all  his  simplicity  of 
heart,  contentment  of  mind,  and  fluency  of  tongue. 
We  kept  company  with  him  almost  the  whole 
day,  wandering  along  the  beautiful  banks  of  the 
river,  admiring  the  ease  and  elegant  dexterity 
with  which  the  old  fellow  managed  his  angle, 
throwing  the  fly  with  unerring  certainty  at  a 
great  distance  and  among  overhanging  bushes, 
and  waving  it  gracefully  in  the  air,  to  keep  it 
from  entangling,  as  he  stumped  with  his  staff  and 
wooden  leg  from  one  bend  of  the  river  to  an 
other.  He  kept  up  a  continual  flow  of  cheerful 
and  entertaining  talk,  and  what  I  particularly 
liked  him  for  was,  that  though  we  tried  every 
way  to  entrap  him  into  some  abuse  of  America 


LIFE  IN  EUROPE.  105 

and  its  inhabitants,  there  was  no  getting  him  to 
utter  an  ill-natured  word  concerning  us.  His 
whole  conversation  and  deportment  illustrated 
old  Isaac's  maxims  as  to  the  benign  influence  of 
angling  over  the  human  heart.  ...  I  ought  to 
mention  that  he  had  two  companions  —  one,  a 
ragged,  picturesque  varlet,  that  had  all  the  air 
of  a  veteran  poacher,  and  I  warrant  would  find 
any  fish-pond  in  the  neighborhood  in  the  darkest 
night ;  the  other  was  a  disciple  of  the  old  phi 
losopher,  studying  the  art  under  him,  and  was 
son  and  heir  apparent  to  the  landlady  of  the  vil 
lage  tavern." 

A  contrast  to  this  pleasing  picture  is  af 
forded  by  some  character  sketches  at  the 
little  watering-place  of  Buxton,  which  our 
kindly  observer  visited  the  same  year. 

"At  the  hotel  where  we  put  up  [he  writes] 
we  had  a  most  singular  and  whimsical  assem 
blage  of  beings.  I  don't  know  whether  you  were 
ever  at  an  English  watering-place,  but  if  you 
have  not  been,  you  have  missed  the  best  oppor 
tunity  of  studying  English  oddities,  both  moral 
and  physical.  I  no  longer  wonder  at  the  English 
being  such  excellent  caricaturists,  they  have  such 
an  inexhaustible  number  and  variety  of  subjects 
to  study  from.  The  only  care  should  be  not  to 
follow  fact  too  closely,  for  I  '11  swear  I  have  met 


106  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

with  characters  and  figures  that  would  be  con 
demned  as  extravagant,  if  faithfully  delineated 
by  pen  or  pencil.  At  a  watering-place  like  Bux- 
ton,  where  people  really  resort  for  health,  you  see 
the  great  tendency  of  the  English  to  run  into 
excrescences  and  bloat  out  into  grotesque  de 
formities.  As  to  noses,  I  say  nothing  of  them, 
though  we  had  every  variety:  some  snubbed  and 
turned  up,  with  distended  nostrils,  like  a  dormer 
window  on  the  roof  of  a  house  ;  others  convex 
and  twisted  like  a  buck-handled  knife  ;  and  others 
magnificently  efflorescent,  like  a  full-blown  cauli 
flower.  But  as  to  the  persons  that  were  attached 
to  these  noses,  fancy  any  distortion,  protuber 
ance,  and  fungous  embellishment  that  can  be  pro 
duced  in  the  human  form  by  high  and  gross  feed 
ing,  by  the  bloating  operations  of  malt  liquors, 
and  by  the  rheumy  influence  of  a  damp,  foggy, 
vaporous  climate.  One  old  fellow  was  an  excep 
tion  to  this,  for  instead  of  acquiring  that  expan 
sion  and  sponginess  to  which  old  people  are  prone 
in  this  country,  from  the  long  course  of  internal 
and  external  soakage  they  experience,  he  had 
grown  dry  and  stiff  in  the  process  of  years.  The 
skin  of  his  face  had  so  shrunk  away  that  he  could 
not  close  eyes  or  mouth  —  the  latter,  therefore, 
stood  on  a  perpetual  ghastly  grin,  and  the  former 
on  an  incessant  stare.  He  had  but  one  service 
able  joint  in  his  body,  which  was  at  the  bottom 


LIFE  IN  EUROPE.  107 

of  the  backbone,  and  that  creaked  and  grated 
whenever  he  bent.  He  could  not  raise  his  feet 
from  the  ground,  but  skated  along  the  drawing- 
room  carpet  whenever  he  wished  to  ring  the  bell. 
The  only  sign  of  moisture  in  his  whole  body  was 
a  pellucid  drop  that  I  occasionally  noticed  on  t\ie 
end  of  a  long,  dry  nose.  He  used  generally  to 
shuffle  about  in  company  with  a  little  fellow  that 
was  fat  on  one  side  and  lean  on  the  other.  That 
is  to  say,  he  was  warped  on  one  side  as  if  he  had 
been  scorched  before  the  fire  ;  he  had  a  wry  neck, 
which  made  his  head  lean  on  one  shoulder ;  his 
hair  was  smugly  powdered,  and  he  had  a  round, 
smirking,  smiling,  apple  face,  with  a  bloom  on  it 
like  that  of  a  frost-bitten  leaf  in  autumn.  We 
had  an  old,  fat  general  by  the  name  of  Trotter, 
who  had,  I  suspect,  been  promoted  to  his  high 
rank  to  get  him  out  of  the  way  of  more  able  and 
active  officers,  being  an  instance  that  a  man  may 
occasionally  rise  in  the  world  through  absolute 
lack  of  merit.  I  could  not  help  watching  the 
movements  of  this  redoubtable  old  Hero,  who,  I  '11 
warrant,  has  been  the  champion  and  safeguard  of 
half  the  garrison  towns  in  England,  and  fancy 
ing  to  myself  how  Bonaparte  would  have  de 
lighted  in  having  such  toast-and-butter  generals 
to  deal  with.  This  old  cad  is  doubtless  a  sample 
of  those  generals  that  flourished  in  the  old  mili 
tary  school,  when  armies  would  manoeuvre  and 


108  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

watch  each  other  for  months  ;  now  and  then 
have  a  desperate  skirmish,  and,  after  marching 
and  countermarching  about  the  '  Low  Countries  ' 
through  a  glorious  campaign,  retire  on  the  first 
pinch  of  cold  weather  into  snug  winter  quarters 
in.  some  fat  Flemish  town,  and  eat  and  drink 
and  fiddle  through  the  winter.  Boney  must  have 
sadly  disconcerted  the  comfortable  system  of 
these  old  warriors  by  the  harrowing,  restless, 
cut-and-slash  mode  of  warfare  that  he  introduced. 
He  has  put  an  end  to  all  the  old  carte  and  tierce 
system  in  which  the  cavaliers  of  the  old  school 
fought  so  decorously,  as  it  were  with  a  small 
sword  in  one  hand  and  a  chapeau  bras  in  the 
other.  During  his  career  there  has  been  a  sad 
laying  on  the  shelf  of  old  generals  who  could  not 
keep  up  with  the  hurry,  the  fierceness  arid  dash 
ing  of  the  new  system  ;  and  among  the  number 
I  presume  has  been  my  worthy  house-mate,  old 
Trotter.  The  old  gentleman,  in  spite  of  his 
warlike  title,  had  a  most  pacific  appearance.  He 
was  large  and  fat,  with  a  broad,  hazy,  muffin  face, 
a  sleepy  eye,  and  a  full  double  chin.  He  had  a 
deep  ravine  from  each  corner  of  his  mouth,  not 
occasioned  by  any  irascible  contraction  of  the 
muscles,  but  apparently  the  deep-worn  channels 
of  two  rivulets  of  gravy  that  oozed  out  from  the 
huge  mouthfuls  that  he  masticated.  But  I  for 
bear  to  dwell  on  the  odd  beings  that  were  congre- 


LIFE  IN  EUROPE.  109 

gated  together  in  one  hotel.  I  have  been  thus 
prolix  about  the  old  general  because  you  desired 
me  in  one  of  your  letters  to  give  you  ample  de 
tails  whenever  I  happened  to  be  in  company 
with  the  'great  and  glorious/  and  old  Trotter 
is  more  deserving  of  the  epithet  than  any  of  the 
personages  I  have  lately  encountered." 

It  was  at  the  same  resort  of  fashion  and 
disease  that  Irving  observed  a  phenomenon 
upon  which  Brevoort  had  commented  as 
beginning  to  be  noticeable  in  America. 

"  Your  account  [he  writes]  of  the  brevity  of 
the  old  lady's  nether  garments  distresses  me.  .  .  . 
I  cannot  help  observing  that  this  fashion  of  short 
skirts  must  have  been  invented  by  the  French 
ladies  as  a  complete  trick  upon  John  Bull's 
'  woman-folk.'  It  was  introduced  just  at  the 
time  the  English  flocked  in  such  crowds  to  Paris. 
The  French  women,  you  know,  are  remarkable 
for  pretty  feet  and  ankles,  and  can  display  them 
in  perfect  security.  The  English  are  remarkable 
for  the  contrary.  Seeing  the  proneness  of  the 
English  women  to  follow  French  fashions,  they 
therefore  led  them  into  this  disastrous  one,  and 
sent  them  home  with  their  petticoats  up  to  their 
knees,  exhibiting  such  a  variety  of  sturdy  little 
legs  as  would  have  afforded  Hogarth  an  ample 
choice  to  match  one  of  his  assemblages  of  queer 


110  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

heads.  It  is  really  a  great  source  of  curiosity 
and  amusement  on  the  promenade  of  a  watering- 
place  to  observe  the  little  sturdy  English  women, 
trudging  about  in  their  stout  leather  shoes,  and 
to  study  the  various  '  understandings '  betrayed 
to  view  by  this  mischievous  fashion." 

The  years  passed  rather  wearily  in  Eng 
land.  Peter  continued  to  be  an  invalid, 
and  Washington  himself,  never  robust,  felt 
the  pressure  more  and  more  of  the  irksome 
and  unprosperous  business  affairs.  Of  his 
own  want  of  health,  however,  he  never  com 
plains  ;  he  maintains  a  patient  spirit  in  the 

111  turns  of  fortune,  and  his  impatience  in 
the  business  complications  is  that  of  a  man 
hindered    from    his    proper    career.      The 
times  were  depressing. 

"  In  America  [he  writes  to  Brevoort]  you 
have  financial  difficulties,  the  embarrassments  of 
trade,  the  distress  of  merchants,  but  here  you 
have  what  is  far  worse,  the  distress  of  the  poor 
—  not  merely  mental  sufferings,  but  the  abso 
lute  miseries  of  nature  :  hunger,  nakedness, 
wretchedness  of  all  kinds  that  the  laboring  peo 
ple  in  this  country  are  liable  to.  In  the  best  of 
times  they  do  but  subsist,  but  in  adverse  times 
they  starve.  How  the  country  is  to  extricate  it- 


LIFE  IN  EUROPE.  Ill 

self  from  its  present  embarrassment,  how  it  is  to 
escape  from  the  poverty  that  seems  to  be  over 
whelming  it,  and  how  the  government  is  to  quiet 
the  multitudes  that  are  already  turbulent  and 
clamorous,  and  are  yet  but  in  the  beginning  of 
their  real  miseries,  I  cannot  conceive." 

The  embarrassments  of  the  agricultural 
and  laboring  classes  and  of  the  government 
were  as  serious  in  1816  as  they  have  again 
become  in  1881. 

During  1817  Irving  was  mostly  in  the 
depths  of  gloom,  a  prey  to  the  monotony 
of  life  and  torpidity  of  intellect.  Rays  of 
sunlight  pierce  the  clouds  occasionally.  The 
Van  Wart  household  at  Birmingham  was  a 
frequent  refuge  for  him,  and  we  have  pretty 
pictures  of  the  domestic  life  there  ;  glimpses 
of  Old  Parr,  whose  reputation  as  a  gourmand 
was  only  second  to  his  fame  as  a  Grecian, 
and  of  that  delightful  genius,  the  Rev.  Raim 
Kennedy,  who  might  have  been  famous  if 
he  had  ever  committed  to  paper  the  long 
poems  that  he  carried  about  in  his  head, 
and  the  engaging  sight  of  Irving  playing 
the  flute  for  the  little  Van  Warts  to  dance. 
During  the  holidays  Irving  paid  another 
visit  to  the  haunts  of  Isaac  Walton,  and  his 


112  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

description  of  the  adventures  and  mishaps 
of  a  pleasure  party  on  the  banks  of  the 
Dove  suggest  that  the  incorrigible  bachelor 
was  still  sensitive  to  the  allurements  of  life, 
and  liable  to  wander  over  the  "  dead-line  " 
of  matrimonial  danger.  Pie  confesses  that 
he  was  all  day  in  Elysium.  "  When  we 
had  descended  from  the  last  precipice,"  he 
says,  "and  come  to  where  the  Dove  flowed 
musically  through  a  verdant  meadow  —  then 
: —  fancy  me,  oh,  thou  '  sweetest  of  poets,' 
wandering  by  the  course  of  this  romantic 
stream  —  a  lovely  girl  hanging  on  my  arm, 
pointing  out  the  beauties  of  the  surround 
ing  scenery,  and  repeating  in  the  most  dul 
cet  voice  tracts  of  heaven-born  poetry.  If 
a  strawberry  smothered  in  cream  has  any 
consciousness  of  its  delicious  situation,  it 
must  feel  as  I  felt  at  that  moment."  In 
deed,  the  letters  of  this  doleful  year  are 
enlivened  by  so  many  references  to  the 
graces  and  attractions  of  lovely  women,  seen 
and  remembered,  that  insensibility  cannot 
be  attributed  to  the  author  of  the  tk  Sketch- 
Book." 

The   death    of    Irving's   mother   in   the 
spring  of  1817  determined  him  to  remain 


LIFE  IN  EUROPE.  113 

another  year  abroad.  Business  did  not  im 
prove.  His  brother-in-law  Van  Wart  called 
a  meeting  of  his  creditors,  the  Irving  broth 
ers  floundered  on  into  greater  depths  of 
embarrassment,  and  Washington,  who  could 
not  think  of  returning  home  to  face  poverty 
in  New  York,  began  to  revolve  a  plan  that 
would  give  him  a  scanty  but  sufficient  sup 
port.  The  idea  of  the  "  Sketch-Book  "  was 
in  his  mind.  He  had  as  yet  made  few  liter 
ary  acquaintances  in  England.  It  is  an  il 
lustration  of  the  warping  effect  of  friendship 
upon  the  critical  faculty  that  his  opinion  of 
Moore  at  this  time  was  totally  changed  by 
subsequent  intimacy.  At  a  later  date  the 
two  authors  became  warm  friends  and  mut 
ual  admirers  of  each  other's  productions. 
In  June,  1817,  "  Lalla  Rookh  "  was  just  from 
the  press,  and  Irving  writes  to  Brevoort: 
"  Moore's  new  poem,  is  just  out.  I  have  not 
sent  it  to  you,  for  it  is  dear  and  worthless. 
It  is  written  in  the  most  effeminate  taste, 
and  fit  only  to  delight  boarding-school  girls 
and  lads  of  nineteen  just  in  their  first  loves. 
Moore  should  have  kept  to  songs  and  epi 
grammatic  conceits.  His  stream  of  intellect 
is  too  small  to  bear  expansion  —  it  spreads 
8 


114  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

into  mere  surface."     Too  much   cream  for 
the  strawberry  ! 

Notwithstanding  business  harassments  in 
the  summer  and  fall  of  1817  he  found  time 
for  some  wandering  about  the  island ;  he 
was  occasionally  in  London,  dining  at  Mur 
ray's,  where  he  made  the  acquaintance  of 
the  elder  D 'Israeli  and  other  men  of  let 
ters  (one  of  his  notes  of  a  dinner  at  Mur 
ray's  is  this :  "  Lord  Byron  told  Murray 
that  he  was  much  happier  after  breaking 
with  Lady  Byron  —  he  hated  this  still,  quiet 
life  ")  ;  he  was  publishing  a  new  edition  of 
the  "  Knickerbocker,"  illustrated  by  Leslie 
and  Allston ;  and  we  find  him  at  home  in 
the  friendly  and  brilliant  society  of  Edin 
burgh  ;  both  the  magazine  publishers,  Con 
stable  and  Blackwood,  were  very  civil  to 
him,  and  Mr.  Jeffrey  (Mrs.  Renwick  was 
his  sister)  was  very  attentive ;  and  he  passed 
some  days  with  Walter  Scott,  whose  home 
life  he  so  agreeably  describes  in  his  sketch 
of  "  Abbotsford."  He  looked  back  long 
ingly  to  the  happy  hours  there  (he  writes 
to  his  brother) :  "  Scott  reading,  occasionally, 
from  '  Prince  Arthur ' ;  telling  border  stories 
or  characteristic  anecdotes  ;  Sophy  Scott 


LIFE  IN  EUROPE.  115 

singing  with  charming  naivetS  a  little  bor 
der  song ;  the  rest  of  the  family  disposed  in 
listening  groups,  while  greyhounds,  span 
iels,  and  cats  bask  in  unbounded  indulgence 
before  the  fire.  Everything  about  Scott  is 
perfect  character  and  picture." 

In  the  beginning  of  1818  the  business  af 
fairs  of  the  brothers  became  so  irretrievably 
involved  that  Peter  and  Washington  went 
through  the  humiliating  experience  of  tak 
ing  the  bankrupt  act.  Washington's  con 
nection  with  the  concern  was  little  more 
than  nominal,  and  he  felt  small  anxiety  for 
himself,  and  was  eager  to  escape  from  an 
occupation  which  had  taken  all  the  elastic 
ity  out  of  his  mind.  But  on  account  of  his 
brothers,  in  this  dismal  wreck  of  a  family 
connection,  his  soul  was  steeped  in  bitter 
ness.  Pending  the  proceedings  of  the  com 
missioners,  he  shut  himself  up  day  and  night 
to  the  study  of  German,  and  while  waiting 
for  the  examination  used  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  room,  conning  over  the  German 
verbs. 

In  August  he  went  up  to  London  and 
cast  himself  irrevocably  upon  the  fortune  of 
his  pen.  He  had  accumulated  some  mate' 


116  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

rials,  and  upon  these  he  set  to  work.  Ef 
forts  were  made  at  home  to  procure  for  him 
the  position  of  Secretary  of  Legation  in 
London,  which  drew  from  him  the  remark, 
when  they  came  to  his  knowledge,  that  he 
did  not  like  to  have  his  name  hackneyed 
about  among  the  office-seekers  in  Washing 
ton.  Subsequently  his  brother  William 
wrote  him  that  Commodore  Decatur  was 
keeping  open  for  him  the  office  of  Chief 
Clerk  in  the  Navy  Department.  To  the 
mortification  and  chagrin  of  his  brothers, 
Washington  declined  the  position.  He  was 
resolved  to  enter  upon  no  duties  that  would 
interfere  with  his  literary  pursuits. 

This  resolution,  which  exhibited  a  mod 
est  confidence  in  his  own  powers,  and  the 
energy  with  which  he  threw  himself  into 
his  career,  showed  the  fibre  of  the  man. 
Suddenly,  by  the  reverse  of  fortune,  he  who 
had  been  regarded  as  merely  the  ornamental 
genius  of  the  family  became  its  stay  and 
support.  If  he  had  accepted  the  aid  of  his 
brothers,  during  the  experimental  period  of 
his  life,  in  the  loving  spirit  of  confidence  in 
which  it  was  given,  he  was  not  less  ready 
to  reverse  the  relations  when  the  time  came ; 


LIFE  IN  EUROPE.  117 

the  delicacy  with  which  his  assistance  was 
rendered,  the  scrupulous  care  taken  to  con 
vey  the  feeling  that  his  brothers  were  doing 
him  a  continued  favor  in  sharing  his  good 
fortune,  and  their  own  unjealous  acceptance 
of  what  they  would  as  freely  have  given  if 
circumstances  had  been  different,  form  one 
of  the  pleasantest  instances  of  brotherly 
concord  and  self-abnegation.  I  know  noth 
ing  more  admirable  than  the  life-long  rela 
tions  of  this  talented  and  sincere  family. 

Before  the  "  Sketch-Book"  was  launched, 
and  while  Irving  was  casting  about  for  the 
means  of  livelihood,  Walter  Scott  urged 
him  to  take  the  editorship  of  an  Anti-Ja 
cobin  periodical  in  Edinburgh.  This  he  de 
clined  because  he  had  no  taste  for  politics, 
and  because  he  was  averse  to  stated,  rou 
tine  literary  work.  Subsequently  Mr.  Mur 
ray  offered  him  a  salary  of  a  thousand 
guineas  to  edit  a  periodical  to  be  published 
by  himself.  This  was  declined,  as  also  was 
another  offer  to  contribute  to  the  "  London 
Quarterly  "  with  the  liberal  pay  of  one  hun 
dred  guineas  an  article.  For  the  "  Quar 
terly "  he  would  not  write,  because,  he  saj^s, 
"  it  has  always  been  so  hostile  to  my  coun- 


118  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

try,  I  cannot  draw  a  pen  in  its  service.*' 
This  is  worthy  of  note  in  view  of  a  charge 
made  afterwards,  when  he  was  attacked 
for  his  English  sympathies,  that  he  was  a 
frequent  contributor  to  this  an ti- American 
review.  His  sole  contributions  to  it  were 
a  gratuitous  review  of  the  book  of  an  Amer 
ican  author,  and  an  explanatory  article, 
written  at  the  desire  of  his  publisher,  on. 
the  "  Conquest  of  Granada."  It  is  not  nec 
essary  to  dwell  upon  the  small  scandal  about 
Irving' s  un-American  feeling.  If  there  was 
ever  a  man  who  loved  his  country  and  was 
proud  of  it;  whose  broad,  deep,  and  strong 
patriotism  did  not  need  the  saliency  of  ig 
norant  partisanship,  it  was  Washington  Ir 
ving.  He  was  like  his  namesake  an  Amer 
ican,  and  with  the  same  pure  loyalty  and 
unpartisan  candor. 

The  first  number  of  the  "  Sketch-Book  " 
was  published  in  America  in  May,  1819. 
Irving  was  then  thirty-six  years  old.  The 
series  was  not  completed  till  September, 
1820.  The  first  installment  was  carried 
mainly  by  two  papers,  "  The  Wife  "  and 
"  Rip  Van  Winkle  :  "  the  one  full  of  tender 
pathos  that  touched  all  hearts,  because  it 


LITERARY  ACTIVITY.  119 

was  recognized  as  a  genuine  expression  of 
the  author's  nature ;  and  the  other  a  happy 
effort  of  imaginative  humor,  —  one  of  those 
strokes  of  genius  that  recreate  the  world 
and  clothe  it  with  the  unfading  hues  of  ro 
mance  ;  the  theme  was  an  old-world  echo, 
transformed  by  genius  into  a  primal  story 
that  will  endure  as  long  as  the  Hudson  flows 
through  its  mountains  to  the  sea.  A  great 
artist  can  paint  a  great  picture  on  a  small 
canvas. 

The  "  Sketch-Book  "  created  a  sensation 
in  America,  and  the  echo  of  it  was  not  long 
in  reaching  England.  The  general  chorus 
of  approval  and  the  rapid  sale  surprised  Ir 
ving,  and  sent  his  spirits  up,  but  success 
had  the  effect  on  him  that  it  always  has  on 
a  fine  nature.  He  writes  to  Leslie :  "  Now 
you  suppose  I  am  all  on  the  alert,  and  full 
of  spirit  and  excitement.  No  such  thing.  I 
am  just  as  good  for  nothing  as  ever  I  was; 
and,  indeed,  have  been  flurried  and  put  «ut 
of  my  way  by  these  puffings.  I  feel  some 
thing  as  I  suppose  you  did  when  your  pict 
ure  met  with  success,  —  anxious  to  do  some 
thing  better,  and  at  a  loss  what  to  do." 

It  was  with  much  misgiving  that  Irving 


120  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

made  this  venture.  "  I  feel  great  diffi 
dence,"  he  writes  Brevoort,  March  3,  1819, 
"  about  this  reappearance  in  literature.  I  am 
conscious  of  my  imperfections,  and  my  mind 
has  been  for  a  long  time  past  so  pressed 
upon  and  agitated  by  various  cares  and  anx 
ieties,  that  I  fear  it  has  lost  much  of  its 
cheerfulness  and  some  of  its  activity.  I 
have  attempted  no  lofty  theme,  nor  sought 
to  look  wise  and  learned,  which  appears  to 
be  very  much  the  fashion  among  our  Amer 
ican  writers  at  present.  I  have  preferred 
addressing  myself  to  the  feelings  and  fancy 
of  the  reader  more  than  to  his  judgment. 
My  writings  may  appear,  therefore,  light 
and  trifling  in  our  country  of  philosophers 
and  politicians.  But  if  they  possess  merit 
in  the  class  of  literature  to  which  they  be 
long,  it  is  all  to  which  I  aspire  in  the  work. 
I  seek  only  to  blow  a  flute  accompaniment 
in  the  national  concert,  and  leave  others 
to  play  the  fiddle  and  French-horn."  This 
diffidence  was  not  assumed.  All  through 
his  career,  a  breath  of  criticism  ever  so 
slight  acted  temporarily  like  a  hoar-frost 
upon  his  productive  power.  He  always  saw 
reasons  to  take  sides  with  his  critic.  Speak- 


LITERARY  ACTIVITY.  121 

ing  of  "vanity"  in  a  letter  of  March,  1820, 
when  Scott  and  Lockhart  and  all  the  Re 
views  were  in  a  full  chorus  of  acclaim,  he 
says  :  "  I  wish  I  did  possess  more  of  it,  but 
it  seems  my  curse  at  present  to  have  any 
thing  but  confidence  in  myself  or  pleasure 
in  anything  I  have  written." 

In  a  similar  strain  he  had  written,  in 
September,  1819,  on  the  news  of  the  cor 
dial  reception  of  the  u  Sketch-Book "  in 
America :  — 

"  The  manner  in  which  the  work  has  been  re 
ceived,  and  the  eulogiums  that  have  been  passed 
upon  it  in  the  American  papers  and  periodical 
works,  have  completely  overwhelmed  me.  They 
go  far,  far  beyond  my  most  sanguine  expecta 
tions,  and  indeed  are  expressed  with  such  pecul 
iar  warmth  and  kindness  as  to  affect  me  in  the 
tenderest  manner.  The  receipt  of  your  letter, 
and  the  reading  of  some  of  the  criticisms  this 
morning,  have  rendered  me  nervous  for  the  whole 
day.  I  feel  almost  appalled  by  such  success,  and 
fearful  that  it  cannot  be  real,  or  that  it  is  not 
fully  merited,  or  that  I  shall  not  act  up  to  the 
expectations  that  may  be  formed.  We  are  whim 
sically  constituted  beings.  I  had  got  out  of  con 
ceit  of  all  that  I  had  written,  and  considered  it 
very  questionable  stuff;  and  now  that  it  is  so  ex- 


122  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

travagantly  bepraised,  I  begin  to  feel  afraid  that 
I  shall  not  do  as  well  again.  However,  we  shall 
see  as  we  get  on.  As  yet  I  am  extremely  irregu 
lar  and  precarious  in  my  fits  of  composition.  The 
least  thing  puts  me  out  of  the  vein,  and  even 
applause  flurries  me  and  prevents  my  writing, 
though  of  course  it  will  ultimately  be  a  stimu 
lus.  .  .  . 

"  I  have  been  somewhat  touched  by  the  man 
ner  in  which  my  writings  have  been  noticed  in 
the  '  Evening  Post.'  I  had  considered  Coleman 
as  cherishing  an  ill-will  toward  me,  and,  to  tell 
the  truth,  have  not  always  been  the  most  court 
eous  in  my  opinions  concerning  him.  It  is  a  pain 
ful  thing  either  to  dislike  others  or  to  fancy  they 
dislike  us,  and  I  have  felt  both  pleasure  and  self- 
reproach  at  finding  myself  so  mistaken  with  re 
spect  to  Mr.  Coleman.  I  like  to  out  with  a 
good  feeling  as  soon  as  it  rises,  and  so  I  have 
dropt  Coleman  a  line  on  the  subject. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  attribute  all  this  sensi 
bility  to  the  kind  reception  I  have  met  to  an 
author's  vanity.  I  am  sure  it  proceeds  from 
very  different  sources.  Vanity  could  not  bring 
the  tears  into  my  eyes  as  they  have  been  brought 
by  the  kindness  of  my  countrymen.  I  have  felt 
cast  down,  blighted,  and  broken-spirited,  and 
these  sudden  rays  of  sunshine  agitate  me  more 
than  they  revive  me.  I  hope  —  I  hope  I  may 


LITERARY  ACTIVITY.  123 

yet  do  something  more  worthy  of  the  apprecia 
tion  lavished  on  me." 

Irving  had  not  contemplated  publishing 
in  England,  but  the  papers  began  to  be  re 
printed,  and  he  was  obliged  to  protect  him 
self.  He  offered  the  sketches  to  Murray, 
the  princely  publisher,  who  afterwards  dealt 
so  liberally  with  him,  but  the  venture  was 
declined  in  a  civil  note,  written  in  that 
charming  phraseology  with  which  authors 
are  familiar,  but  which  they  would  in  vain 
seek  to  imitate.  Irving  afterwards  greatly 
prized  this  letter.  He  undertook  the  risks 
of  the  publication  himself,  and  the  book 
sold  well,  although  "  written  by  an  author 
the  public  knew  nothing  of,  and  published 
by  a  bookseller  who  was  going  to  ruin."  In 
a  few  months  Murray,  who  was  thereafter 
proud  to  be  Irving" s  publisher,  undertook 
the  publication  of  the  two  volumes  of  the 
"  Sketch-Book,"  and  also  of  the  "  Knicker 
bocker  "  history,  which  Mr.  Lockhart  had 
just  been  warmly  praising  in  "  Black- 
wood's."  Indeed,  he  bought  the  copyright 
of  the  "  Sketch-Book "  for  two  hundred 
pounds.  The  time  for  the  publisher's  com 
plaisance  had  arrived  sooner  even  than  Scott 


124  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

predicted  in  one  of  his  kindly  letters  to  Ir 
ving,  "  when 

'  Your  name  is  up  and  may  go 
From  Toledo  to  Madrid.'  " 

Irving  passed  five  years  in  England. 
Once  recognized  by  the  literary  world, 
whatever  was  best  in  the  society  of  letters 
and  of  fashion  was  open  to  him.  He  was 
a  welcome  guest  in  the  best  London  houses, 
where  he  met  the  foremost  literary  per 
sonages  of  the  time,  and  established  most 
cordial  relations  with  many  of  them ;  not  to 
speak  of  statesmen,  soldiers,  and  men  and 
women  of  fashion,  there  were  the  elder  D'ls- 
raeli,  Southey,  Campbell,  Hallam,  Gifford, 
Milman,  Foscolo,  Rogers,  Scott,  and  Bel- 
zoni  fresh  from  his  Egyptian  explorations. 
In  Irving's  letters  this  old  society  passes 
in  review :  Murray's  drawing-rooms ;  the 
amusing  blue-stocking  coteries  of  fashion  of 
which  Lady  Caroline  Lamb  was  a  pro 
moter  ;  the  Countess  of  Besborough's,  at 
whose  house  The  Duke  could  be  seen  ;  the 
Wimbledon  country  seat  of  Lord  and  Lady 
Spence;  Belzoni,  a  giant  of  six  feet  five, 
the  centre  of  a  group  of  eager  auditors  of 
the  Egyptian  marvels;  Hallam,  affable  and 


LITERARY  ACTIVITY.  125 

unpretending,  and  a  copious  talker  ;  Gifford, 
a  small,  shriveled,  deformed  man  of  sixty, 
with  something  of  a  humped  back,  eyes 
that  diverge,  and  a  large  mouth,  reclining  on 
a  sofa,  propped  up  by  cushions,  with  none  of 
the  petulance  that  you  would  expect  from 
his  Review,  but  a  mild,  simple,  unassum 
ing  man,  —  he  it  is  who  prunes  the  contri 
butions  and  takes  the  sting  out  of  them 
(one  would  like  to  have  seen  them  before 
the  sting  was  taken  out)  ;  and  Scott,  the 
right  honest-hearted,  entering  into  the  pass 
ing  scene  with  the  hearty  enjoyment  of  a 
child,  to  whom  literature  seems  a  sport 
rather  than  a  labor  or  ambition,  an  author 
void  of  all  the  petulance,  egotism,  and  pe 
culiarities  of  the  craft.  We  have  Moore's 
authority  for  saying  that  the  literary  dinner 
described  in  the  "  The  Tales  of  a  Traveller," 
whimsical  as  it  seems  and  pervaded  by  the 
conventional  notion  of  the  relations  of  pub 
lishers  and  authors,  had  a  personal  foun 
dation.  Irving's  satire  of  both  has  always 
the  old-time  Grub  Street  flavor,  or  at  least 
the  reminiscent  tone,  which  is,  by  the  way, 
quite  characteristic  of  nearly  everything  that 
he  wrote  about  England.  He  was  always 


126  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

a  little  in  the  past  tense.  Buckthorne's  ad 
vice  to  his  friend  is,  never  to  he  eloquent  to 
an  author  except  in  praise  of  his  own  works, 
or,  what  is  nearly  as  acceptable,  in  dispar 
agement  of  the  work  of  his  contemporaries. 
"  If  ever  he  speaks  favorably  of  the  pro 
ductions  of  a  particular  friend,  dissent 
boldly  from  him ;  pronounce  his  friend  to 
be  a  blockhead ;  never  fear  his  being  vexed. 
Much  as  people  speak  of  the  irritability  of 
authors,  I  never  found  one  to  take  of 
fense  at  such  contradictions.  No,  no,  sir, 
authors  are  particularly  candid  in  admit 
ting  the  faults  of  their  friends."  At  the 
dinner  Buckthorne  explains  the  geograph 
ical  boundaries  in  the  land  of  literature  : 
you  may  judge  tolerably  well  of  an  au 
thor's  popularity  by  the  wine  his  bookseller 
gives  him.  "  An  author  crosses  the  port 
line  about  the  third  edition,  and  gets  into 
claret ;  and  when  he  has  reached  the  sixth 
or  seventh,  he  may  revel  in  champagne  and 
burgundy."  The  two  ends  of  the  table  were 
occupied  by  the  two  partners,  one  of  whom 
laughed  at  the  clever  things  said  by  the 
poet,  while  the  other  maintained  his  sedate- 
ness  and  kept  on  carving.  "  His  gravity  was 


LITERARY  ACTIVITY,  127 

explained  to  us  by  my  friend  Buckthorne. 
He  informed  me  that  the  concerns  of  the 
house  were  admirably  distributed  among 
the  partners.  Thus,  for  instance,  said  he, 
the  grave  gentleman  is  the  carving  partner, 
who  attends  to  the  joints ;  and  the  other  is 
the  laughing  partner,  who  attends  to  the 
jokes."  If  any  of  the  jokes  from  the  lower 
end  of  the  table  reached  the  upper  end,  they 
seldom  produced  much  effect.  "  Even  the 
laughing  partner  did  not  think  it  necessary 
to  honor  them  with  a  smile ;  which  my 
neighbor  Buckthorne  accounted  for  by  in 
forming  me  that  there  was  a  certain  degree 
of  popularity  to  be  obtained  before  a  book 
seller  could  afford  to  laugh  at  an  author's 
jokes." 

In  August,  1820,  we  find  Irving  in  Paris, 
where  his  reputation  secured  him  a  hearty 
welcome :  he  was  often  at  the  Cannings' 
and  at  Lord  Holland's ;  Talma,  then  the 
king  of  the  stage,  became  his  friend,  and 
there  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Thomas 
Moore,  which  ripened  into  a  familiar  and 
lasting  friendship.  The  two  men  were 
drawn  to  each  other ;  Irving  greatly  ad 
mired  the  "noble-hearted,  manly,  spirited 


128  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

little  fellow,  with  a  mind  as  generous  as  his 
fancy  is  brilliant."  Talma  was  playing 
Hamlet  to  overflowing  houses,  which  hung 
on  his  actions  with  breathless  attention,  or 
broke  into  ungovernable  applause ;  ladies 
were  carried  fainting  from  the  boxes.  The 
actor  is  described  as  short  in  stature,  rather 
inclined  to  fat,  with  a  large  face  and  a  thick 
neck ;  his  eyes  are  bluish,  and  have  a  pe 
culiar  cast  in  them  at  times.  He  said  to 
Irving  that  he  thought  the  French  charac 
ter  much  changed  —  graver ;  the  day  of  the 
classic  drama,  mere  declamation  and  fine 
language,  had  gone  by ;  the  Revolution  had 
taught  them  to  demand  real  life,  incident, 
passion,  character.  Irving's  life  in  Paris 
was  gay  enough,  and  seriously  interfered 
with  his  literary  projects.  He  had  the  for 
tunes  of  his  brother  Peter  on  his  mind  also, 
and  invested  his  earnings,  then  and  for  some 
years  after,  in  enterprises  for  his  benefit  that 
ended  in  disappointment. 

The  "  Sketch-Book"  was  making  a  great 
fame  for  him  in  England.  Jeffrey,  in  the 
"  Edinburgh  Review,"  paid  it  a  most  flat 
tering  tribute,  and  even  the  savage  "  Quar 
terly  "  praised  it.  A  rumor  attributed  it 


LITERARY  ACTIVITY.  129 

to  Scott,  who  was  always  masquerading ;  at 
least,  it  was  said,  he  might  have  revised  it, 
and  should  have  the  credit  of  its  exquisite 
style.  This  led  to  a  sprightly  correspond 
ence  between  Lady  Littleton,  the  daughter 
of  Earl  Spencer,  one  of  the  most  accom 
plished  and  lovely  women  of  England,  and 
Benjamin  Rush,  Minister  to  the  Court  of 
St.  James,  in  the  course  of  which  Mr.  Rush 
suggested  the  propriety  of  giving  out  un 
der  his  official  seal  that  Irving  was  the  au 
thor  of  "  Waverley."  "  Geoffrey  Crayon  is 
the  most  fashionable  fellow  of  the  day," 
wrote  the  painter  Leslie.  Lord  Byron,  in 
a  letter  to  Murray,  underscored  his  admira 
tion  of  the  author,  and  subsequently  said 
to  an  American  :  "  His  Crayon, —  I  know 
it  by  heart ;  at  least,  there  is  not  a  passage 
that  I  cannot  refer  to  immediately."  And 
afterwards  he  wrote  to  Moore,  "His  writ 
ings  are  my  delight."  There  seemed  to  be, 
as  some  one  wrote,  "a  kind  of  conspiracy  to 
hoist  him  over  the  heads  of  his  contempo 
raries."  Perhaps  the  most  satisfactory  evi 
dence  of  his  popularity  was  his  publisher's 
enthusiasm.  The  publisher  is  an  infallible 
contemporary  barometer. 


130  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

It  is  worthy  of  note  that  an  American 
should  have  captivated  public  attention  at 
the  moment  when  Scott  and  Byron  were  the 
idols  of  the  English-reading  world. 

In  the  following  year  Irving  was  again 
in  England,  visiting  his  sister  in  Birming 
ham,  and  tasting  moderately  the  delights 
of  London.  He  was,  indeed,  something  of 
an  invalid.  An  eruptive  malady, —  the  re 
venge  of  nature,  perhaps,  for  defeat  in  her 
earlier  attack  on  his  lungs, —  appearing  in 
his  ankles,  incapacitated  him  for  walking, 
tormented  him  at  intervals,  so  that  literary 
composition  was  impossible,  sent  him  on 
pilgrimages  to  curative  springs,  and  on  jour 
neys  undertaken  for  distraction  and  amuse 
ment,  in  which  all  work  except  that  of 
seeing  and  absorbing  material  had  to  be 
postponed.  He  was  subject  to  this  recur 
ring  invalidism  all  his  life,  and  we  must  re 
gard  a  good  part  of  the  work  he  did  as  a 
pure  triumph  of  determination  over  physical 
discouragement.  This  year  the  fruits  of  his 
interrupted  labor  appeared  in  "  Bracebridge 
Hall,"  a  volume  that  was  well  received,  but 
did  not  add  much  to  his  reputation,  though 
it  contained  "  Dolph  Heyliger,"  one  of  his 


LITERARY  ACTIVITY.  131 

most  characteristic  Dutch  stories,  and  the 
u  Stout  Gentleman,"  one  of  his  daintiest 
and  most  artistic  bits  of  restrained  humor.1 
Irving  sought  relief  from  his  malady  by 
an  extended  tour  in  Germany.  He  so 
journed  some  time  in  Dresden,  whither  his 
reputation  had  preceded  him,  and  where  he 
was  cordially  and  familiarly  received,  not 
only  by  the  foreign  residents,  but  at  the 
prim  and  antiquated  little  court  of  King 
Frederick  Augustus  and  Queen  Amalia.  Of 
Irving  at  this  time  Mrs.  Emily  Fuller  (nee 
Foster),  whose  relations  with  him  have  been 
referred  to,  wrote  in  1860  :  — 

"  He  was  thoroughly  a  gentleman,  not  merely 
in  external  manners  and  look,  but  to  the  inner 
most  fibres  and  core  of  his  heart  :  sweet-tem 
pered,  gentle,  fastidious,  sensitive,  and  gifted  with 
the  warmest  affections ;  the  most  delightful  and 

1  I  was  once  [says  his  biographer]  reading  aloud  in  his 
presence  a  very  flattering  review  of  his  works,  which  had 
been  sent  him  by  the  critic  in  1848,  and  smiled  as  I  came 
to  this  sentence  :  "  His  most  comical  pieces  have  always 
a  serious  end  in  view."  "  You  laugh,"  said  he,  with  that 
air  of  whimsical  significance  so  natural  to  him,  "  but  it 
is  true.  I  have  kept  that  to  myself  hitherto,  but  that 
man  .has  found  me  out.  He  has  detected  the  moral  of 
the  Stout  Gentleman." 


132  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

invariably  interesting  companion ;  gay  and  full 
of  humor,  even  in  spite  of  occasional  fits  of  mel 
ancholy,  which  he  was,  however,  seldom  subject 
to  when  with  those  he  liked ;  a  gift  of  conver 
sation  that  flowed  like  a  full  river  in  sunshine,  — 
bright,  easy,  and  abundant." 

Those  were  pleasant  days  at  Dresden, 
filled  up  with  the  society  of  bright  and 
warm-hearted  people,  varied  by  royal  boar 
hunts,  stiff  ceremonies  at  the  little  court, 
tableaux,  and  private  theatricals,  yet  tinged 
with  a  certain  melancholy,  partly  constitu 
tional,  that  appears  in  most  of  his  letters. 
His  mind  was  too  unsettled  for  much  com 
position.  He  had  little  self-confidence,  and 
was  easily  put  out  by  a  breath  of  adverse 
criticism.  At  intervals  he  would  come  to 
the  Fosters  to  read  a  manuscript  of  his 
own. 

"  On  these  occasions  strict  orders  were  given 
that  no  visitor  should  be  admitted  till  the  last 
word  had  been  read,  and  the  whole  praised  or 
criticised,  as  the  case  may  be.  Of  criticism,  how 
ever,  we  were  very  spare,  as  a  slight  word  would 
put  him  out  of  conceit  of  a  whole  work.  One  of 
the  best  things  he  has  published  was  thrown 
aside,  unfinished,  for  years,  because  the  friend  to 


LITERARY  ACTIVITY.  133 

whom  he  read  it,  happening,  unfortunately,  not 
to  be  well,  and  sleepy,  did  not  seem  to  take  the 
interest  in  it  he  expected.  Too  easily  discour 
aged,  it  was  not  till  the  latter  part  of  his  career 
that  he  ever  appreciated  himself  as  an  author. 
One  condemning  whisper  sounded  louder  in  his 
ear  than  the  plaudits  of  thousands." 

This  from  Miss  Emily  Foster,  who  else 
where  notes  his  kindliness  in  observing 
life :  — 

"  Some  persons,  in  looking  upon  life,  view  it 
as  they  would  view  a  picture,  with  a  stern  and 
criticising  eye.  He  also  looks  upon  life  as  a 
picture,  but  to  catch  its  beauties,  its  lights,  —  not 
its  defects  and  shadows.  On  the  former  he  loves 
to  dwell.  He  has  a  wonderful  knack  at  shut 
ting  his  eyes  to  the  sinister  side  of  anything. 
Never  beat  a  more  kindly  heart  than  his  ;  alive 
to  the  sorrows,  but  not  to  the  faults,  of  his  friends, 
but  doubly  alive  to  their  virtues  and  goodness. 
Indeed,  people  seemed  to  grow  more  good  with 
one  so  unselfish  and  so  gentle." 

In  London,  some  years  later :  — 

"  He  was  still  the  same ;  time  changed  him 
very  little.  His  conversation  was  as  interesting 
as  ever  [he  was  always  an  excellent  relater]; 


184  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

his  dark  gray  eyes  still  full  of  varying  feeling ; 
his  smile  half  playful,  half  melancholy,  but  ever 
kind.  All  that  was  mean,  or  envious,  or  harsh, 
he  seemed  to  turn  from  so  completely  that,  when 
with  him,  it  seemed  that  such  things  were  not. 
All  gentle  and  tender  affections,  Nature  in  her 
sweetest  or  grandest  moods,  pervaded  his  whole 
imagination,  and  left  no  place  for  low  or  evil 
thoughts ;  and  when  in  good  spirits,  his  humor, 
his  droll  descriptions,  and  his  fun  would  make 
the  gravest  or  the  saddest  laugh." 

As  to  living's  "  state  of  mind  "  in  Dres 
den,  it  is  pertinent  to  quote  a  passage  from 
what  we  gather  to  be  a  journal  kept  by 
Miss  Flora  Foster  :  — 

"  He  has  written.  He  has  confessed  to  my 
mother,  as  to  a  true  and  dear  friend,  his  love  for 
E ,  and  his  conviction  of  its  utter  hopeless 
ness.  He  feels  himself  unable  ,to  combat  it.  He 
thinks  he  must  try,  by  absence,  to  bring  more 
peace  to  his  mind.  Yet  he  cannot  bear  to  give 
up  our  friendship,  —  an  intercourse  become  so 
dear  to  him,  and  so  necessary  to  his  daily  happi 
ness.  Poor  Irving!" 

It  is  well  for  our  peace  of  mind  that  we 
do  not  know  what  is  going  down  concern 
ing  us  in  "journals."  On  Ms  way  to  the 


LITERARY  ACTIVITY.  135 

Herrnhuthers,   Mr.   Irving   wrote   to   Mrs. 
Foster :  — 

4<  When  I  consider  how  I  have  trifled  with  my 
time,  suffered  painful  vicissitudes  of  feeling,  which 
for  a  time  damaged  both  rniud  and  body,  —  when 
I  consider  all  this,  I  reproach  myself  that  I  did 
not  listen  to  the  first  impulse  of  my  mind,  and 
abandon  Dresden  long  since.  And  yet  I  think 
of  returning  !  Why  should  I  come  back  to  Dres 
den  ?  The  very  inclination  that  dooms  me  thither 
should  furnish  reasons  for  my  staying  away." 

In  this  mood,  the  Herrnhuthers,  in  their 
right-angled,  whitewashed  world,  were  little 
attractive. 

"  If  the  Herrnhuthers  were  right  in  their  no 
tions,  the  world  would  have  been  laid  out  in 
squares  and  angles  and  right  lines,  and  every 
thing  would  have  been  white  and  black  and 
snuff-color,  as  they  have  been  clipped  by  these 
merciless  retrenchers  of  beauty  and  enjoyment. 
And  then  their  dormitories !  Think  of  between 
one  and  two  hundred  of  these  simple  gentlemen 
cooped  up  at  night  in  one  great  chamber !  What 
a  concert  of  barrel-organs  in  this  great  resound 
ing  saloon !  And  then  their  plan  of  marriage  ! 
The  very  birds  of  the  air  choose  their  mates  from 
preference  and  inclination ;  but  this  detestable 


136  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

system  of  lot!  The  sentiment  of  love  may  be,  and 
is,  in  a  great  measure,  a  fostered  growth  of  poetry 
and  romance,  and  balderdashed  with  false  senti 
ment  ;  but  with  all  its  vitiations,  it  is  the  beauty 
and  the  charm,  the  flavor  and  the  fragrance,  of 
all  intercourse  between  man  and  woman  ;  it  is  the 
rosy  cloud  in  the  morning  of  life  ;  and  if  it  does 
too  often  resolve  itself  into  the  shower,  yet,  to 
my  mind,  it  only  makes  our  nature  more  fruitful 
in  what  is  excellent  and  amiable." 

Better  suited  him  Prague,  which  is  cer 
tainly  a  part  of  the  "  naughty  world  "  that 
Irving  preferred  :  — 

"  Old  Prague  still  keeps  up  its  warrior  look, 
and  swaggers  about  with  its  rusty  corselet  and 
helm,  though  both  sadly  battered.  There  seems 
to  me  to  be  an  air  of  style  and  fashion  about  the 
first  people  of  Prague,  and  a  good  deal  of  beauty 
in  the  fashionable  circle.  This,  perhaps,  is  ow 
ing  to  my  contemplating  it  from  a  distance,  and 
my  imagination  lending  it  tints  occasionally.  Both 
actors  and  audience,  contemplated  from  the  pit 
of  a  theatre,  look  better  than  when  seen  in  the 
boxes  and  behind  the  scenes.  I  like  to  contem 
plate  society  in  this  way  occasionally,  and  to  dress 
it  up  by  the  help  of  fancy,  to  my  own  taste. 
When  I  get  in  the  midst  of  it,  it  is  too  apt  to  lose 
its  charm,  and  then  there  is  the  trouble  and  ennui 


LITERARY  ACTIVITY.  137 

of  being  obliged  to  take  an  active  part  in  the 
farce  ;  but  to  be  a  mere  spectator  is  amusing.  I 
am  glad,  therefore,  that  I  brought  no  letters  to 
Prague.  I  shall  leave  it  with  a  favorable  idea 

O 

of  its  society  and  manners,  from  knowing  nothing 
accurate  of  either;  and  with  a  firm  belief  that 
every  pretty  woman  I  have  seen  is  an  angel,  as 
I  am  apt  to  think  every  pretty  woman,  until  I 
have  found  her  out." 

In  July,  1823,  Irving  returned  to  Paris, 
to  the  society  of  the  Moores  and  the  fascina 
tions  of  the  gay  town,  and  to  fitful  literary 
work.  Our  author  wrote  with  great  facility 
and  rapidity  when  the  inspiration  was  on 
him,  and  produced  an  astonishing  amount 
of  manuscript  in  a  short  period  ;  but  he 
often  waited  and  fretted  through  barren 
weeks  and  months  for  the  movement  of  his 
fitful  genius.  His  mind  was  teeming  con 
stantly  with  new  projects,  and  nothing  could 
exceed  his  industry  when  once  he  had  taken 
a  work  in  hand  ;  but  he  never  acquired  the 
exact  methodical  habits  which  enable  some 
literary  men  to  calculate  their  power  and 
quantity  of  production  as  accurately  as  that 
of  a  cotton  mill. 

The  political  changes  in  France  during 


138  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

the  period  of  Irving's  long  sojourn  in  Paris 
do  not  seem  to  have  taken  much  of  his  at 
tention.  In  a  letter  dated  October  5,  1824, 
he  says  :  "  We  have  had  much  bustle  in 
Paris  of  late,  between  the  death  of  one  king 
and  the  succession  of  another.  I  have  be 
come  a  little  callous  to  public  sights,  but 
have,  notwithstanding,  been  to  see  the  fu 
neral  of  the  late  king,  and  the  entrance  into 
Paris  of  the  present  one.  Charles  X.  be 
gins  his  reign  in  a  very  conciliating  manner, 
and  is  really  popular.  The  Bourbons  have 
gained  great  accession  of  power  within  a  few 
years." 

The  succession  of  Charles  X.  was  also  ob 
served  by  another  foreigner,  who  was  mak 
ing  agreeable  personal  notes  at  that  time  in 
Paris,  but  who  is  not  referred  to  by  Irving, 
who  for  some  unexplained  reason  failed  to 
meet  the  genial  Scotsman  at  breakfast.  Per 
haps  it  is  to  his  failure  to  do  so  that  he  owes 
the  semi-respectful  reference  to  himself  in 
Carlyle's  "  Reminiscences."  Lacking  the 
stimulus  to  his  vocabulary  of  personal  ac 
quaintance,  Carlyle  simply  wrote :  "  Wash 
ington  Irving  was  said  to  be  in  Paris,  a  kind 
of  lion  at  that  time,  whose  books  I  some- 


LITERARY  ACTIVITY.  189 

what  esteemed.  One  day  the  Emerson- 
Tennant  people  bragged  that  they  had  en 
gaged  him  to  breakfast  with  us  at  a  certain 
cafg  next  morning.  We  all  attended  duly, 
Strackey  among  the  rest,  but  no  Washing 
ton  came.  'Couldn't  rightly  come,'  said 
Malcolm  to  me  in  a  judicious  aside,  as  we 
cheerfully  breakfasted  without  him.  I  never 
saw  Washington  at  all,  but  still  have  a  mild 
esteem  of  the  good  man."  This  ought  to  be 
accepted  as  evidence  of  Carlyle's  disinclina 
tion  to  say  ill-natured  things  of  those  he  did 
not  know. 

The  "  Tales  of  a  Traveller  "  appeared  in 
1824.  In  the  author's  opinion,  with  which 
the  best  critics  agreed,  it  contained  some  of 
his  best  writing.  He  himself  said  in  a  letter 
to  Brevoort,  "  There  was  more  of  an  artistic 
touch  about  it,  though  this  is  not  a  thing 
to  be  appreciated  by  the  many."  It  was 
rapidly  written.  The  movement  has  a  de 
lightful  spontaneity,  and  it  is  wanting  in 
none  of  the  charms  of  his  style,  unless,  per 
haps,  the  style  is  over-refined  ;  but  it  was  not 
a  novelty,  and  the  public  began  to  criticise 
and  demand  a  new  note.  This  may  have 
been  one  reason  why  he  turned  to  a  fresh 


140  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

field  and  to  graver  themes.  For  a  time  he 
busied  himself  on  some  American  essays  of 
a  semi-political  nature,  which  were  never 
finished,  and  he  seriously  contemplated  a 
Life  of  Washington  ;  but  all  these  projects 
were  thrown  aside  for  one  that  kindled  his 
imagination,  —  the  Life  of  Columbus ;  and 
in  February,  1826,  he  was  domiciled  at  Ma 
drid,  and  settled  down  to  a  long  period  of 
unremitting  and  intense  labor, 


CHAPTER  VH. 
IN  SPAIN. 

IRVTNG'S  residence  in  Spain,  which  was 
prolonged  till  September,  1829,  was  the  most 
fruitful  period  in  his  life,  and  of  considerable 
consequence  to  literature.  It  is  not  easy  to 
overestimate  the  debt  of  Americans  to  the 
man  who  first  opened  to  them  the  fascinat 
ing  domain  of  early  Spanish  history  and 
romance.  We  can  conceive  of  it  by  reflect 
ing  upon  the  blank  that  would  exist  with 
out  "  The  Alhambra,"  "  The  Conquest  of 
Granada,"  "  The  Legends  of  the  Conquest 
of  Spain,"  and  I  may  add  the  popular  loss 
if  we  had  not  "  The  Lives  of  Columbus  and 
his  Companions."  Irving  had  the  creative 
touch,  or  at  least  the  magic  of  the  pen,  to 
give  a  definite,  universal,  and  romantic  in 
terest  to  whatever  he  described.  We  can 
not  deny  him  that.  A  few  lines  about  the 
inn  of  the  Red  Horse  at  Stratford-on-Avon 
created  a  new  object  of  pilgrimage  right  in 


142  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

the  presence  of  the  house  and  tomb  of  the 
poet.  And  how  much  of  the  romantic  in 
terest  of  all  the  English-reading  world  in 
the  Alhambra  is  due  to  him ;  the  name  in 
variably  recalls  his  own,  and  every  visitor 
there  is  conscious  of  his  presence.  He  has 
again  and  again  been  criticised  almost  out  of 
court,  and  written  down  to  the  rank  of  the 
mere  idle  humorist ;  but  as  often  as  I  take 
up  ''The  Conquest  of  Granada"  or  "The 
Alhambra  "  I  am  aware  of  something  that 
has  eluded  the  critical  analysis,  and  I  con 
clude  that  if  one  cannot  write  for  the  few 
it  may  be  worth  while  to  write  for  the 
many. 

It  was  Irving's  intention,  when  he  went 
to  Madrid,  merely  to  make  a  translation  of 
some  historical  documents  which  were  then 
appearing,  edited  by  M.  Navarrete,  from 
the  papers  of  Bishop  Las  Casas  and  the 
journals  of  Columbus,  entitled  "  The  Voy 
ages  of  Columbus."  But  when  he  found 
that  this  publication,  although  it  contained 
many  documents,  hitherto  unknown,  that 
threw  much  light  on  the  discovery  of  the 
New  World,  was  rather  a  rich  mass  of  ma 
terials  for  a  history  than  a  history  itself, 


IN  SPAIN.  143 

and  that  he  had  access  in  Madrid  libraries  to 
great  collections  of  Spanish  colonial  history, 
he  changed  his  plan,  and  determined  to 
write  a  Life  of  Columbus.  His  studies  for 
this  led  him  deep  into  the  old  chronicles 
and  legends  of  Spain,  and  out  of  these,  with 
his  own  travel  and  observation,  came  those 
books  of  mingled  fables,  sentiment,  fact,  and 
humor  which  are  after  all  the  most  endur 
ing  fruits  of  his  residence  in  Spain. 

Notwithstanding  his  absorption  in  literary 
pursuits,  Irving  was  not  denied  the  charm 
of  domestic  society,  which  was  all  his  life 
his  chief  delight.  The  house  he  most  fre 
quented  in  Madrid  was  that  of  Mr.  D'Ou- 
bril,  the  Russian  Minister.  In  his  charming 
household  were  Madame  D'Oubril  and  her 
niece,  Mademoiselle  Antoinette  Bollviller, 
and  Prince  Dolgorouki,  a  young  attach^  of 
the  legation.  His  letters  to  Prince  Dol 
gorouki  and  to  Mademoiselle  Antoinette 
give  a  most  lively  and  entertaining  picture 
of  his  residence  and  travels  in  Spain.  In 
one  of  them  to  the  prince,  who  was  tem 
porarily  absent  from  the  city,  we  have 
glimpses  of  the  happy  hours,  the  happiest 
of  all  hours,  passed  in  this  refined  family 


144  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

circle.  Here  is  one  that  exhibits  the  still 
fresh  romance  in  the  heart  of  forty-four 
years  :  — 

"  Last  evening,  at  your  house,  we  had  one  of 
the  most  lovely  tableaux  I  ever  beheld.  It  was 
the  conception  of  Murillo,  represented  by  Ma 
dame  A .  Mademoiselle  Antoinette  arranged 

the  tableau  with  her  usual  good  taste,  and  the  ef 
fect  was  enchanting.  It  was  more  like  a  vision  of 
something  spiritual  and  celestial  than  a  represen 
tation  of  anything  merely  mortal ;  or  rather  it  was 
woman  as  in  my  romantic  days  I  have  been  apt 
to  imagine  her,  approaching  to  the  angelic  nat 
ure.  I  have  frequently  admired  Madame  A 

as  a  mere  beautiful  woman,  when  I  have  seen  her 
dressed  up  in  the  fantastic  attire  of  the  mode ; 
but  here  I  beheld  her  elevated  into  a  representa 
tive  of  the  divine  purity  and  grace,  exceeding 
even  the  beau  ideal  of  the  painter,  for  she  even 
surpassed  in  beauty  the  picture  of  Murillo.  I 
felt  as  if  I  could  have  knelt  down  and  wor 
shiped  her.  Heavens!  what  power  women 
would  have  over  us,  if  they  knew  how  to  sus 
tain  the  attractions  which  nature  has  bestowed 
upon  them,  and  which  we  are  so  ready  to  assist 
by  our  imaginations !  For  my  part,  I  am  super 
stitious  in  my  admiration  of  them,  and  like  to 
walk  in  a  perpetual  delusion,  decking  them  out 


IN  SPAIN.  145 

as  divinities.     I  thank  no  one  to  undeceive  me, 
and  to  prove  that  they  are  mere  mortals." 

And  he  continues  in  another  strain :  — 
"  How  full  of  interest  everything  is  connected 
with  the  old  times  in  Spain !  I  am  more  and 
more  delighted  with  the  old  literature  of  the 
country,  its  chronicles,  plays,  and  romances.  It 
has  the  wild  vigor  and  luxuriance  of  the  forests 
of  my  native  country,  which,  however  savage  and 
entangled,  are  more  captivating  to  my  imagina 
tion  than  the  finest  parks  and  cultivated  wood 
lands. 

"  As  I  live  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  library 
of  the  Jesuits'  College  of  St.  Isidore,  I  pass  most 
of  my  mornings  there.  You  cannot  think  what 
a  delight  I  feel  in  passing  through  its  galleries, 
filled  with  old  parchment-bound  books.  It  is  a 
perfect  wilderness  of  curiosity  to  me.  What  a 
deep-felt,  quiet  luxury  there  is  in  delving  into  the 
rich  ore  of  these  old,  neglected  volumes  !  How 
these  hours  of  uninterrupted  intellectual  enjoy 
ment,  so  tranquil  and  independent,  repay  one  for 
the  ennui  and  disappointment  too  often  experi 
enced  in  the  intercourse  of  society  !  How  they 
serve  to  bring  back  the  feelings  into  a  harmoni 
ous  tone,  after  being  jarred  and  put  out  of  tune 
by  the  collisions  with  the  world  ! " 

With  the  romantic  period  of  Spanish  his- 
10 


146  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

tory  Irving  was  in  ardent  sympathy.  The 
story  of  the  Saracens  entranced  his  mind ; 
Ms  imagination  disclosed  its  Oriental  qual 
ity  while  he  pored  over  the  romance  and 
the  ruin  of  that  land  of  fierce  contrasts, 
of  arid  wastes  beaten  by  the  burning  sun, 
valleys  blooming  with  intoxicating  beauty, 
cities  of  architectural  splendor  and  pictur 
esque  squalor.  It  is  matter  of  regret  that 
he,  who  seemed  to  need  the  southern  sun  to 
ripen  his  genius,  never  made  a  pilgrimage 
into  the  East,  and  gave  to  the  world  pictures 
of  the  lands  that  he  would  have  touched 
with  the  charm  of  their  own  color  and  the 
witchery  of  their  own  romance. 

I  will  quote  again  from  the  letters,  for 
they  reveal  the  man  quite  as  well  as  the 
more  formal  and  better  known  writings. 
His  first  sight  of  the  Alhambra  is  given  in 
a  letter  to  Mademoiselle  Bollviller :  — 

"  Our  journey  through  La  Mancha  was  cold 
and  uninteresting,  excepting  when  we  passed 
through  the  scenes  of  some  of  the  exploits  of 
Don  Quixote.  We  were  repaid,  however,  by  a 
night  amidst  the  scenery  of  the  Sierra  Morena, 
seen  by  the  light  of  the  full  moon.  I  do  not 
know  how  this  scenery  would  appear  in  the  day- 


IN  SPAIN.  147 

time,  but  by  moonlight  it  is  wonderfully  wild  and 
romantic,  especially  after  passing  the  summit  of 
the  Sierra.  As  the  day  dawned  we  entered  the 
stern  and  savage  defiles  of  the  Despena  Perros, 
which  equals  the  wild  landscapes  of  Salvator 
Rosa.  For  some  time  we  continued  winding 
along  the  brinks  of  precipices,  overhung  with 
cragged  and  fantastic  rocks  ;  and  after  a  succes 
sion  of  such  rude  and  sterile  scenes  we  swept 
down  to  Carolina,  and  found  ourselves  in  an 
other  climate.  The  orange-trees,  the  aloes,  and 
myrtle  began  to  make  their  appearance  ;  we  felt 
the  warm  temperature  of  the  sweet  South,  and 
began  to  breathe  the  balmy  air  of  Andalusia.  At 
Andujar  we  were  delighted  with  the  neatness 
and  cleanliness  of  the  houses,  the  patios  planted 
with  orange  and  citron  trees,  and  refreshed  by 
fountains.  We  passed  a  charming  evening  on  the 
banks  of  the  famous  Guadalquivir,  enjoying  the 
mild,  balmy  air  of  a  southern  evening,  and  re 
joicing  in  the  certainty  that  we  were  at  length  in 
this  land  of  promise.  .  .  . 

"  But  Granada,  bettissima  Granada !  Think  what 
must  have  been  our  delight  when,  after  passing 
the  famous  bridge  of  Pinos,  the  scene  of  many  a 
bloody  encounter  between  Moor  and  Christian, 
and  remarkable  for  having  been  the  place  where 
Columbus  was  overtaken  by  the  messenger  of 
Isabella,  when  about  to  abandon  Spain  in  de- 


148  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

spair,  we  turned  a  promontory  of  the  arid  mount 
ains  of  Elvira,  and  Granada,  with  its  towers,  its 
Alhambra,  and  its  snowy  mountains,  burst  upon 
our  sight!  The  evening  sun  shone  gloriously 
upon  its  red  towers  as  we  approached  it,  and 
gave  a  mellow  tone  to  the  rich  scenery  of  the 
vega.  It  was  like  the  magic  glow  which  poetry 
and  romance  have  shed  over  this  enchanting 
place.  .  .  . 

"The  more  I  contemplate  these  places,  the 
more  my  admiration  is  awakened  for  the  elegant 
habits  and  delicate  taste  of  the  Moorish  mon- 
archs.  The  delicately  ornamented  walls ;  the 
aromatic  groves,  mingling  with  the  freshness  and 
the  enlivening  sounds  of  fountains  and  rivers  of 
water ;  the  retired  baths,  bespeaking  purity  and 
refinement ;  the  balconies  and  galleries,  open  to 
the  fresh  mountain  breeze,  and  overlooking  the 
loveliest  scenery  of  the  valley  of  the  Darro  and 
the  magnificent  expanse  of  the  vega,  —  it  is  impos 
sible  to  contemplate  this  delicious  abode  and  not 
feel  an  admiration  of  the  genius  and  the  poetical 
spirit  of  those  who  first  devised  this  earthly  para 
dise.  There  is  an  intoxication  of  heart  and  soul 
in  looking  over  such  scenery  at  this  genial  sea 
son.  All  nature  is  just  teeming  with  new  life, 
and  putting  on  the  first  delicate  verdure  and 
bloom  of  spring.  The  almond  -  trees  are  in 
blossom ;  the  fig-trees  are  beginning  to  sprout ; 


IN  SPAIN.  149 

everything  is  in  the  tender  bud,  the  young  leaf, 
or  the  half-open  flower.  The  beauty  of  the  sea 
son  is  but  half  developed,  so  that  while  there  is 
enough  to  yield  present  delight  there  is  the  flat 
tering  promise  of  still  further  enjoyment.  Good 
heavens  !  after  passing  two  years  amidst  the  sun 
burnt  wastes  of  Castile,  to  be  let  loose  to  rove  at 
large  over  this  fragrant  and  lovely  land  ! " 

It  was  not  easy,  however,  even  in  the 
Alhambra,  perfectly  to  call  up  the  past :  — 

"  The  verity  of  the  present  checks  and  chills 
the  imagination  in  its  picturings  of  the  past.  I 
have  been  trying  to  conjure  up  images  of  Boabdil 
passing  in  regal  splendor  through  these  courts  ; 
of  his  beautiful  queen  ;  of  the  Abencerrages,  the 
Gomares,  and  the  other  Moorish  cavaliers,  who 
once  filled  these  halls  with  the  glitter  of  arms 
and  the  splendor  of  Oriental  luxury  ;  but  I  am 
continually  awakened  from  my  reveries  by  the 
jargon  of  an  Andalusian  peasant  who  is  setting 
out  rose-bushes,  and  the  song  of  a  pretty  Anda 
lusian  girl  who  shows  the  Alhambra,  and  who  is 
chanting  a  little  romance  that  has  probably  been 
handed  down  from  generation  to  generation  since 
the  time  of  the  Moors." 

In  another   letter,  written  from  Seville, 
he  returns    to   the  subject  of    the  Moors. 


150  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

He  is  describing  an  excursion  to  Alcala  de  la 
Guadayra : — 

"  Nothing  can  be  more  charming  than  the 
windings  of  the  little  river  among  banks  hang 
ing  with  gardens  and  orchards  of  all  kinds  of 
delicate  southern  fruits,  and  tufted  with  flowers 
and  aromatic  plants.  The  nightingales  throng 
this  lovely  little  valley  as  numerously  as  they  do 
the  gardens  of  Aranjuez.  Every  bend  of  the 
river  presents  a  new  landscape,  for  it  is  beset 
by  old  Moorish  mills  of  the  most  picturesque 
forms,  each  mill  having  an  embattled  tower,  —  a 
memento  of  the  valiant  tenure  by  which  those 
gallant  fellows,  the  Moors,  held  this  earthly  par 
adise,  having  to  be  ready  at  all  times  for  war, 
and  as  it  were  to  work  with  one  hand  and  fight 
with  the  other.  It  is  impossible  to  travel  about 
Andalusia  and  not  imbibe  a  kind  feeling  for 
those  Moors.  They  deserved  this  beautiful  coun 
try.  They  won  it  bravely  ;  they  enjoyed  it  gen 
erously  and  kindly.  No  lover  ever  delighted 
more  to  cherish  and  adorn  a  mistress,  to  heighten 
and  illustrate  her  charms,  and  to  vindicate  and 
defend  her  against  all  the  world  than  did  the 
Moors  to  embellish,  enrich,  elevate,  and  defend 
their  beloved  Spain.  Everywhere  I  meet  traces 
of  their  sagacity,  courage,  urbanity,  high  poetical 
feeling,  and  elegant  taste.  The  noblest  institu- 


IN  SPAIN.  151 

tions  in  this  part  of  Spain,  the  best  inventions 
for  comfortable  and  agreeable  living,  and  all 
those  habitudes  and  customs  which  throw  a  pe 
culiar  and  Oriental  charm  over  the  Andalusian 
mode  of  living  may  be  traced  to  the  Moors. 
Whenever  I  enter  these  beautiful  marble  patios, 
set  out  with  shrubs  and  flowers,  refreshed  by 
fountains,  sheltered  with  awnings  from  the  sun  ; 
where  the  air  is  cool  at  noonday,  the  ear  de 
lighted  in  sultry  summer  by  the  sound  of  falling 
water ;  where,  in  a  word,  a  little  paradise  is  shut 
up  within  the  walls  of  home,  I  think  on  the  poor 
Moors,  the  inventors  of  all  these  delights.  I  am 
at  times  almost  ready  to  join  in  sentiment  with 
a  worthy  friend  and  countryman  of  mine  whom 
I  met  in  Malaga,  who  swears  the  Moors  are  the 
only  people  that  ever  deserved  the  country,  and 
prays  to  Heaven  that  they  may  come  over  from 
Africa  and  conquer  it  again." 

In  a  following  paragraph  we  get  a  glimpse 
of  a  world,  however,  that  the  author  loves 
still  more :  — 

"  Tell  me  everything  about  the  children.  I 
suppose  the  discreet  princess  will  soon  consider 
it  an  indignity  to  be  ranked  among  the  num 
ber.  I  am  told  she  is  growing  with  might  and 
main,  and  is  determined  not  to  stop  until  she  is  a 
woman  outright.  I  would  give  all  the  money 


152  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

in  my  pocket  to  be  with  those  dear  little  women 
at  the  round  table  in  the  saloon,  or  on  the  grass- 
plot  in  the  garden,  to  tell  them  some  marvelous 
tales." 

And  again  :  — 

"  Give  my  love  to  all  my  dear  little  friends 
of  the  round  table,  from  the  discreet  princess 
down  to  the  little  blue-eyed  boy.  Tell  la  pe 
tite  Marie  that  I  still  remain  true  to  her,  though 
surrounded  by  all  the  beauties  of  Seville ;  and 
that  I  swear  (but  this  she  must  keep  between 
ourselves)  that  there  is  not  a  little  woman  to 
compare  with  her  in  all  Andalusia." 

The  publication  of  "  The  Life  of  Colum 
bus,"  which  had  been  delayed  by  Irving's 
anxiety  to  secure  historical  accuracy  in  every 
detail,  did  not  take  place  till  February,  1828. 
For  the  English  copyright  Mr.  Murray  paid 
him  £3,150.  He  wrote  an  abridgment  of 
it,  which  he  presented  to  his  generous  pub 
lisher,  and  which  was  a  very  profitable  book 
(the  first  edition  of  ten  thousand  copies  sold 
immediately).  This  was  followed  by  the 
"  Companions,"  and  by  "  The  Chronicle  of 
the  Conquest  of  Granada,"  for  which  he  re 
ceived  two  thousand  guineas.  "  The  Alham- 
bra"  was  not  published  till  just  before 


IN  SPAIN.  153 

Irving's  return  to  America,  in  1832,  and  was 
brought  out  by  Mr.  Bentley,  who  bought  it 
for  one  thousand  guineas. 

"  The  Conquest  of  Granada,"  which  I  am 
told  Irving  in  his  latter  years  regarded  as 
the  best  of  all  his  works,  was  declared  by 
Coleridge  "  a  chef-d'oeuvre  of  its  kind."  I 
think  it  bears  re-reading  as  well  as  any  of 
the  Spanish  books.  Of  the  reception  of  the 
"Columbus"  the  author  was  very  doubtful. 
Before  it  was  finished  he  wrote :  — 

"  I  have  lost  confidence  in  the  favorable  dis 
position  of  my  countrymen,  and  look  forward  to 
cold  scrutiny  and  stern  criticism,  and  this  is  a 
line  of  writing  in  which  I  have  not  hitherto  as 
certained  my  own  powers.  Could  I  afford  it,  I 
should  like  to  write,  and  to  lay  my  writings  aside 
when  finished.  There  is  an  independent  delight 
in  study  and  in  the  creative  exercise  of  the  pen  ; 
we  live  in  a  world  of  dreams,  but  publication  lets 
in  the  noisy  rabble  of  the  world,  and  there  is  an 
end  of  our  dreaming." 

In  a  letter  to  Brevoort,  February,  23, 1828, 
he  fears  that  he  can  never  regain 

"  That  delightful  confidence  which  I  once  en 
joyed  of  not  the  good  opinion,  but  the  good  will, 
of  my  countrymen.  To  me  it  is  always  ten  times 


154  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

more  gratifying  to  be  liked  than  to  be  admired ; 
and  I  confess  to  you,  though  I  am  a  little  too 
proud  to  confess  it  to  the  world,  the  idea  that  the 
kindness  of  my  countrymen  toward  me  was  with 
ering  caused  me  for  a  long  time  the  most  weary 
depression  of  spirits,  and  disheartened  me  from 
making  any  literary  exertions." 

It  has  been  a  popular  notion  that  Irving's 
career  was  uniformly  one  of  ease.  In  this 
same  letter  he  exclaims :  "  With  all  my 
exertions,  I  seem  always  to  keep  about  up 
to  my  chin  in  troubled  water,  while  the 
world,  I  suppose,  thinks  I  am  sailing  smooth 
ly,  with  wind  and  tide  in  my  favor." 

In  a  subsequent  letter  to  Brevoort,  dated 
at  Seville,  December  26,  1828,  occurs  al 
most  the  only  piece  of  impatience  and  sar 
casm  that  this  long  correspondence  affords. 
"  Columbus  "  had  succeeded  beyond  his  ex 
pectation,  and  its  popularity  was  so  great 
that  some  enterprising  American  had  pro 
jected  an  abridgment,  which  it  seems  would 
not  be  protected  by  the  copyright  of  the 
original.  Irving  writes  :  — 

"  I  have  just  sent  to  my  brother  an  abridgment 
of  '  Columbus  '  to  be  published  immediately,  as  I 
find  some  paltry  fellow  is  pirating  an  abridg- 


IN  SPAIN.  155 

merit.  Thus  every  line  of  life  has  its  depredation. 
'  There  be  land  rats  and  water  rats,  land  pirates 
and  water  pirates,  —  I  mean  thieves,'  as  old  Shy- 
lock  says.  I  feel  vexed  at  this  shabby  attempt 
to  purloin  this  work  from  me,  it  having  really 
cost  me  more  toil  and  trouble  than  all  my  other 
productions,  and  being  one  that  I  trusted  would 
keep  me  current  with  my  countrymen  ;  but  we 
are  making  rapid  advances  in  literature  in  Amer 
ica,  and  have  already  attained  many  of  the  lit 
erary  vices  and  diseases  of  the  old  countries  of 
Europe.  We  swarm  with  reviewers,  though  we 
have  scarce  original  works  sufficient  for  them  to 
alight  and  prey  upon,  and  we  closely  imitate  all 
the  worst  tricks  of  the  trade  and  of  the  craft  in 
England.  Our  literature,  before  long,  will  be 
like  some  of  those  premature  and  aspiring  whip 
sters,  who  become  old  men  before  they  are  young 
ones,  and  fancy  they  prove  their  manhood  by 
their  profligacy  and  their  diseases." 

But  the  work  had  an  immediate,  con 
tinued,  and  deserved  success.  It  was  critic 
ally  contrasted  with  Robertson's  account  of 
Columbus,  and  it  is  open  to  the  charge  of 
too  much  rhetorical  color  here  and  there, 
and  it  is  at  times  too  diffuse  ;  but  its  sub 
stantial  accuracy  is  not  questioned,  and  the 
glow  of  the  narrative  springs  legitimately 


156  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

from  the  romance  of  the  theme.  Irving  un 
derstood,  what  our  later  historians  have 
fully  appreciated,  the  advantage  of  vivid 
individual  portraiture  in  historical  narra 
tive.  His  conception  of  the  character  and 
mission  of  Columbus  is  largely  outlined,  but 
firmly  and  most  carefully  executed,  and  is 
one  of  the  noblest  in  literature.  I  cannot 
think  it  idealized,  though  it  required  a  po 
etic  sensibility  to  enter  into  sympathy  with 
the  magnificent  dreamer,  who  was  regarded 
by  his  own  generation  as  the  fool  of  an 
idea.  A  more  prosaic  treatment  would  have 
utterly  failed  to  represent  that  mind,  which 
existed  from  boyhood  in  an  ideal  world,  and, 
amid  frustrated  hopes,  shattered  plans,  and 
ignoble  returns  for  his  sacrifices,  could  al 
ways  rebuild  its  glowing  projects,  and  con 
quer  obloquy  and  death  itself  with  immortal 
anticipations. 

Towards  the  close  of  his  residence  in 
Spain,  Irving  received  unexpectedly  the  ap 
pointment  of  Secretary  of  Legation  to  the 
Court  of  St.  James,  at  which  Louis  McLaue 
was  American  Minister ;  and  after  some 
hesitation,  and  upon  the  urgency  of  his 
friends,  he  accepted  it.  He  was  in  the 


7^  SPAIN.  157 

thick  of  literary  projects.  One  of  these 
was  the  History  of  the  Conquest  of  Mex 
ico,  which  he  afterwards  surrendered  to 
Mr.  Prescott  and  another  was  the  "  Life  of 
Washington,"  which  was  to  wait  many  years 
for  fulfillment.  His  natural  diffidence  and 
his  reluctance  to  a  routine  life  made  him 
shrink  from  the  diplomatic  appointment ; 
but  once  engaged  in  it,  and  launched  again 
in  London  society,  he  was  reconciled  to  the 
situation.  Of  honors  there  was  no  lack, 
nor  of  the  adulation  of  social  and  literary 
circles.  In  April,  1830,  the  Royal  Society 
of  Literature  awarded  him  one  of  the  two 
annual  gold  medals  placed  at  the  disposal 
of  the  society  by  George  IV.,  to  be  given  to 
authors  of  literary  works  of  eminent  merit, 
the  other  being  voted  to  the  historian  Hal- 
lam;  and  this  distinction  was  followed  by 
the  degree  of  D.  C.  L.  from  the  University 
of  Oxford,  —  a  title  which  the  modest  au 
thor  never  used. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

EETUEN   TO    AMERICA  :    SUNNYSIDE  :     THE 
MISSION  TO  MADRID. 

IN  1831  Mr.  Irving  was  thrown,  by  his 
diplomatic  position,  into  the  thick  of  the 
political  and  social  tumult,  when  the  Re 
form  Bill  was  pending  and  war  was  ex 
pected  in  Europe.  It  is  interesting  to  note 
that  for  a  time  he  laid  aside  his  attitude  of 
the  dispassionate  observer,  and  caught  the 
general  excitement.  He  writes  in  March, 
expecting  that  the  fate  of  the  cabinet  will 
be  determined  in  a  week,  looking  daily  for 
decisive  news  from  Paris,  and  fearing  dis 
mal  tidings  from  Poland.  "  However,"  he 
goes  on  to  say  in  a  vague  way,  "  the  great 
cause  of  all  the  world  will  go  on.  What  a 
stirring  moment  it  is  to  live  in  !  I  never 
took  such  intense  interest  in  newspapers. 
It  seems  to  me  as  if  life  were  breaking  out 
anew  with  me,  or  that  I  were  entering  upon 
quite  a  new  and  almost  unknown  career  of 


RETURN  TO  AMERICA.  159 

existence,  and  I  rejoice  to  find  my  sensibili 
ties,  which  were  waning  as  to  many  objects 
of  past  interest,  reviving  with  all  their 
freshness  and  vivacity  at  the  scenes  and 
prospects  opening  around  me."  He  expects 
the  breaking  of  the  thralldom  of  falsehood 
woven  over  the  human  mind ;  and,  more 
definitely,  hopes  that  the  Reform  Bill  will 
prevail.  Yet  he  is  oppressed  by  the  gloom 
hanging  over  the  booksellers'  trade,  which 
he  thinks  will  continue  until  reform  and  chol 
era  have  passed  away. 

During  the  last  months  of  his  residence  in 
England,  the  author  renewed  his  impres 
sions  of  Stratford  (the  grateful  landlady  of 
the  Red  Horse  Inn  showed  him  a  poker 
which  was  locked  up  among  the  treasures  of 
her  house,  on  which  she  had  caused  to  be 
engraved  "  Geoffrey  Crayon's  Sceptre  ")  ; 
spent  some  time  at  Newstead  Abbey  ;  and 
had  the  sorrowful  pleasure  in  London  of  see 
ing  Scott  once  more,  and  for  the  last  time. 
The  great  novelist,  in  the  sad  eclipse  of  his 
powers,  was  staying  in  the  city,  on  his  way 
to  Italy,  and  Mr.  Lockhart  asked  Irving  to 
dine  with  him.  It  was  but  a  melancholy 
repast.  "  Ah,"  said  Scott,  as  Irving  gave 


100  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

him  his  arm,  after  dinner,  "  the  times  are 
changed,  my  good  fellow,  since  we  went 
over  the  Eildon  Hills  together.  It  is  all 
nonsense  to  tell  a  man  that  his  mind  is  not 
affected  when  his  body  is  in  this  state." 

Irving  retired  from  the  legation  in  Sep 
tember,  1831,  to  return  home,  the  longing 
to  see  his  native  land  having  become  in 
tense  ;  but  his  arrival  in  New  York  was 
delayed  till  May,  1832. 

If  he  had  any  doubts  of  the  sentiments  of 
his  countrymen  toward  him,  his  reception 
in  New  York  dissipated  them.  America 
greeted  her  most  famous  literary  man  with 
a  spontaneous  outburst  of  love  and  admira 
tion.  The  public  banquet  in  New  York, 
that  was  long  remembered  for  its  brilliancy, 
was  followed  by  the  tender  of  the  same 
tribute  in  other  cities,  —  an  honor  which  his 
unconquerable  shrinking  from  this  kind  of 
publicity  compelled  him  to  decline.  The 
"  Dutch  Herodotus,  Diedrich  Knickerbock 
er,"  to  use  the  phrase  of  a  toast,  having  come 
out  of  one  such  encounter  with  fair  credit, 
did  not  care  to  tempt  Providence  further. 
The  thought  of  making  a  dinner-table 
speech  threw  him  into  a  sort  of  whimsical 


RETURN  TO  AMERICA.  161 

panic, —  a  noble  infirmity,  which  character 
ized  also  Hawthorne  and  Thackeray. 

The  enthusiasm  manifested  for  the  home 
sick  author  was  equaled  by  his  own  for  the 
land  and  the  people  he  supremely  loved. 
Nor  was  his  surprise  at  the  progress  made 
during  seventeen  years  less  than  his  delight 
in  it.  His  native  place  had  become  a  city 
of  two  hundred  thousand  inhabitants  ;  the 
accumulation  of  wealth  and  the  activity  of 
trade  astonished  him,  and  the  literary  stir 
was  scarcely  less  unexpected.  The  steam 
boat  had  come  to  be  used,  so  that  he  seemed 
to  be  transported  from  place  to  place  by 
magic ;  and  on  a  near  view  the  politics  of 
America  seemed  not  less  interesting  than 
those  of  Europe.  The  nullification  battle 
was  set ;  the  currency  conflict  still  raged  ; 
it  was  a  time  of  inflation  and  land  specula 
tion  ;  the  West,  every  day  more  explored 
and  opened,  was  the  land  of  promise  for 
capital  and  energy.  Fortunes  were  made 
in  a  day  by  buying  lots  in  "  paper  towns." 
Into  some  of  these  speculations  Irving  put 
his  savings;  the  investments  were  as  per 
manent  as  they  were  unremunerative. 

Irving's  first  desire,  however,  on  his  re- 
11 


162  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

covery  from  the  state  of  astonishment  into 
which  these  changes  plunged  him,  was  to 
make  himself  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
the  entire  country  and  its  development.  To 
this  end  he  made  an  extended  tour  in  the 
South  and  West,  which  passed  beyond  the 
bounds  of  frontier  settlement.  The  fruit  of 
his  excursion  into  the  Pawnee  country,  on 
the  waters  of  the  Arkansas,  a  region  un- 
traversed  by  white  men,  except  solitary 
trappers,  was  "  A  Tour  on  the  Prairies,"  a 
sort  of  romance  of  reality,  which  remains 
to-day  as  good  a  description  as  we  have  of 
hunting  adventure  on  the  plains.  It  led 
also  to  the  composition  of  other  books  on 
the  West,  which  were  more  or  less  mere 
pieces  of  book-making  for  the  market. 

Our  author  was  far  from  idle.  Indeed,  he 
could  not  afford  to  be.  Although  he  had 
received  considerable  sums  from  his  books, 
and  perhaps  enough  for  his  own  simple 
wants,  the  responsibility  of  the  support  of 
his  two  brothers,  Peter  and  Ebenezer,  and 
several  nieces,  devolved  upon  him.  And, 
besides,  he  had  a  longing  to  make  himself  a 
home,  where  he  could  pursue  his  calling  un 
disturbed,  and  indulge  the  sweets  of  domes- 


RETURN  TO  AMERICA.  163 

tic  and  rural  life,  which  of  all  things  lay 
nearest  his  heart.  And  these  two  under 
takings  compelled  him  to  be  diligent  with 
his  pen  to  the  end  of  his  life.  The  spot  he 
chose  for  his  "  Roost "  was  a  little  farm  on 
the  bank  of  the  river  at  Tarry  town,  close 
to  his  old  Sleepy  Hollow  haunt,  one  of  the 
loveliest,  if  not  the  most  picturesque,  situa 
tions  on  the  Hudson.  At  first  he  intended 
nothing  more  than  a  summer  retreat,  inex 
pensive  and  simply  furnished.  But  his  ex 
perience  was  that  of  all  who  buy,  and  reno 
vate,  and  build.  The  farm  had  on  it  a 
small  stone  Dutch  cottage,  built  about  a 
century  before,  and  inhabited  by  one  of  the 
Van  Tassels.  This  was  enlarged,  still  pre 
serving  the  quaint  Dutch  characteristics  ;  it 
acquired  a  tower  and  a  whimsical  weather 
cock,  the  delight  of  the  owner  ("  it  was 
brought  from  Holland  by  Gill  Davis,  the 
King  of  Coney  Island,  who  says  he  got  it 
from  a  windmill  which  they  were  demolish 
ing  at  the  gate  of  Rotterdam,  which  wind 
mill  has  been  mentioned  in  4  Knickerbock 
er  '  "),  and  became  one  of  the  most  snug 
and  picturesque  residences  on  the  river. 
When  the  slip  of  Melrose  ivy,  which  was 


164  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

brought  over  from  Scotland  by  Mrs.  Ren- 
wick  and  given  to  the  author,  had  grown 
and  well  overrun  it,  the  house,  in  the  midst 
of  sheltering  groves  and  secluded  walks,  was 
as  pretty  a  retreat  as  a  poet  could  desire. 
But  the  little  nook  proved  to  have  an  insa 
tiable  capacity  for  swallowing  up  money,  as 
the  necessities  of  the  author's  establishment 
increased :  there  was  always  something  to 
be  done  to  the  grounds  ;  some  alterations  in 
the  house  ;  a  green-house,  a  stable,  a  gar 
dener's  cottage,  to  be  built,  —  and  to  the 
very  end  the  outlay  continued.  The  cottage 
necessitated  economy  in  other  personal  ex 
penses,  and  incessant  employment  of  his  pen. 
But  Sunnyside,  as  the  place  was  named,  be 
came  the  dearest  spot  on  earth  to  him ;  it 
was  his  residence,  from  which  he  tore  himself 
with  reluctance,  and  to  which  he  returned 
with  eager  longing  ;  and  here,  surrounded  by 
relatives  whom  he  loved,  he  passed  nearly  all 
the  remainder  of  his  years,  in  as  happy  con 
ditions,  I  think,  as  a  bachelor  ever  enjoyed. 
His  intellectual  activity  was  unremitting, 
he  had  no  lack  of  friends,  there  was  only 
now  and  then  a  discordant  note  in  the  gen 
eral  estimation  of  his  literary  work,  and  he 


SUNNYSIDE.  165 

was  the  object  of  the  most  tender  care  from 
his  nieces.  Already,  he  writes,  in  October, 
1838,  "  my  little  cottage  is  well  stocked. 
I  have  Ebenezer's  five  girls,  and  himself 
also,  whenever  he  can  be  spared  from  town  ; 
sister  Catherine  and  her  daughter ;  Mr. 
Davis  occasionally,  with  casual  visits  from 
all  the  rest  of  our  family  connection.  The 
cottage,  therefore,  is  never  lonely."  I  like 
to  dwell  in  thought  upon  this  happy  home, 
a  real  haven  of  rest  after  many  wanderings  ; 
a  seclusion  broken  only  now  and  then  by 
enforced  absence,  like  that  in  Madrid  as 
minister,  but  enlivened  by  many  welcome 
guests.  Perhaps  the  most  notorious  of  these 
was  a  young  Frenchman,  a  "somewhat  quiet 
guest,"  who,  after  several  months'  imprison 
ment  on  board  a  French  man-of-war,  was 
set  on  shore  at  Norfolk,  and  spent  a  couple 
of  months  in  New  York  and  its  vicinity,  in 
1837.  This  visit  was  vividly  recalled  to  Ir 
ving  in  a  letter  to  his  sister,  Mrs.  Storrow, 
who  was  in  Paris  in  1853,  and  had  just 
been  presented  at  court :  — 

"  Louis  Napoleon  and  Eugenie  Montijo,  Em 
peror  and  Empress  of  France !  one  of  whom  I 
have  had  a  guest  at  my  cottage  on  the  Hudson ; 


166  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

the  other,  whom,  when  a  child,  I  have  had  on 
my  knee  at  Granada.  It  seems  to  cap  the  cli 
max  of  the  strange  dramas  of  which  Paris  has 
been  the  theatre  during  my  life-time.  I  have  re 
peatedly  thought  that  each  grand  coup  de  theatre 
would  be  the  last  that  would  occur  in  my  time  ; 
but  each  has  been  succeeded  by  another  equally 
striking;  and  what  will  be  the  next,  who  can 
conjecture  ? 

"  The  last  time  I  saw  Eugenie  Montijo  she  was 
one  of  the  reigning  belles  of  Madrid ;  and  she 
and  her  giddy  circle  had  swept  away  my  charm 
ing  young  friend,  the  Beautiful  and  accomplished 
,  into  their  career  of  fashionable  dis 
sipation.  Now  Eugenie  is  upon  a  throne,  and 

•  a  voluntary  recluse  in  a  convent  of  one  of 

the  most  rigorous  orders  !  Poor !  Per 
haps,  however,  her  fate  may  ultimately  be  the 
happiest  of  the  two.  *  The  storm '  with  her  '  is 
o'er,  and  she  's  at  rest ; '  but  the  other  is  launched 
upon  a  returnless  shore,  on  a  dangerous  sea,  in 
famous  for  its  tremendous  shipwrecks.  Am  I  to 
live  to  see  the  catastrophe  of  her  career,  and  the 
end  of  this  suddenly  conjured-up  empire,  which 
seems  to  be  of  '  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made 
of?" 

As  we  have  seen,  the  large  sums  Irving 
earned  by  his  pen  were  not  spent  in  selfish 


SUNNYSIDE.  1G7 

indulgence.  His  habits  and  tastes  were 
simple,  and  little  would  have  sufficed  for 
his  individual  needs.  He  cared  not  much 
for  money,  and  seemed  to  want  it  only  to 
increase  the  happiness  of  those  who  were  con 
fided  to  his  care.  A  man  less  warm-hearted 
and  more  selfish,  in  his  circumstances,  would 
have  settled  down  to  a  life  of  more  ease  and 
less  responsibility. 

To  go  back  to  the  period  of  his  return  to 
America.  He  was  now  past  middle  life, 
having  returned  to  New  York  in  his  fiftieth 
year.  But  he  was  in  the  full  flow  of  lit 
erary  productiveness.  I  have  noted  the  dates 
of  his  achievements,  because  his  develop 
ment  was  somewhat  tardy  compared  with 
that  of  many  of  his  contemporaries ;  but 
he  had  the  "  staying  "  qualities.  The  first 
crop  of  his  mind  was  of  course  the  most 
original ;  time  and  experience  had  toned 
down  his  exuberant  humor ;  but  the  spring 
of  his  fancy  was  as  free,  his  vigor  was  not 
abated,  and  his  art  was  more  refined. 
Some  of  his  best  work  was  yet  to  be  done. 
And  it  is  worthy  of  passing  mention,  in  re 
gard  to  his  later  productions,  that  his  ad 
mirable  sense  of  literary  proportion,  which 


168  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

is  wanting  in  many  good  writers,  character 
ized  bis  work  to  the  end. 

High  as  his  position  was  as  a  man  of  let 
ters  at  this  time,  the  consideration  in  which 
he  was  held  was  much  broader  than  that,  — 
it  was  that  of  one  of  the  first  citizens  of  the 
Republic.  His  friends,  readers,  and  admir 
ers  were  not  merely  the  literary  class  and  the 
general  public,  but  included  nearly  all  the 
prominent  statesmen  of  the  time.  Almost 
any  career  in  public  life  would  have  been 
open  to  him  if  he  had  lent  an  ear  to  their 
solicitations.  But  political  life  was  not  to 
his  taste,  and  it  would  have  been  fatal  to  his 
sensitive  spirit.  It  did  not  require  much 
self-denial,  perhaps,  to  decline  the  candi 
dacy  for  mayor  of  New  York,  or  the  honor 
of  standing  for  Congress ;  but  he  put  aside 
also  the  distinction  of  a  seat  in  Mr.  Van 
Buren's  Cabinet  as  Secretary  of  the  Navy. 
His  main  reason  for  declining  it,  aside  from 
a  diffidence  in  his  own  judgment  in  public 
matters,  was  his  dislike  of  the  turmoil  of 
political  life  in  Washington,  and  his  sensi 
tiveness  to  personal  attacks  which  beset  the 
occupants  of  high  offices.  But  he  also  had 
come  to  a  political  divergence  with  Mr. 


SUNNYSIDE.  169 

Van  Buren.  He  liked  the  man,  — he  liked 
almost  everybody,  —  and  esteemed  him  as  a 
friend,  but  he  apprehended  trouble  from  the 
new  direction  of  the  party  in  power.  Ir 
ving  was  almost  devoid  of  party  prejudice, 
and  he  never  seemed  to  have  strongly 
marked  political  opinions.  Perhaps  his 
nearest  confession  to  a  creed  is  contained  in 
a  letter  he  wrote  to  a  member  of  the  House 
of  Representatives,  Gouverneur  Kemble,  a 
little  time  before  the  offer  of  a  position  in 
the  cabinet,  in  which  he  said  that  he  did 
not  relish  some  points  of  Van  Buren's  pol 
icy,  nor  believe  in  the  honesty  of  some  of 
his  elbow  counselors.  I  quote  a  passage 
from  it :  — 

"  As  far  as  I  know  my  own  mind,  I  am  thor 
oughly  a  republican,  and  attached,  from  complete 
conviction,  to  the  institutions  of  my  country; 
but  I  am  a  republican  without  gall,  and  have  no 
bitterness  in  my  creed.  I  have  no  relish  for  Pu 
ritans,  either  in  religion  or  politics,  who  are  for 
pushing  principles  to  an  extreme,  and  for  over 
turning  everything  that  stands  in  the  way  of 
their  own  zealous  career.  .  .  .  Ours  is  a  govern 
ment  of  compromise.  We  have  several  great 
and  distinct  interests  bound  up  together,  which, 


170  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

if  not  separately  consulted  and  severally  accom 
modated,  may  harass  and  impair  each  other. 
...  I  always  distrust  the  soundness  of  political 
councils  that  are  accompanied  by  acrimonious 
and  disparaging  attacks  upon  any  great  class  of 
our  fellow-citizens.  Such  are  those  urged  to  the 
disadvantage  of  the  great  trading  and  financial 
classes  of  our  country." 

During  the  ten  years  preceding  his  mis 
sion  to  Spain,  Irving  kept  fagging  away  at 
the  pen,  doing  a  good  deal  of  miscellaneous 
and  ephemeral  work.  Among  his  other  en 
gagements  was  that  of  regular  contributor 
to  the  "Knickerbocker  Magazine,"  for  a  sal 
ary  of  two  thousand  dollars.  He  wrote  the 
editor  that  he  had  observed  that  man,  as  he 
advances  in  life,  is  subject  to  a  plethora  of 
the  mind,  occasioned  by  an  accumulation  of 
wisdom  upon  the  brain,  and  that  he  be 
comes  fond  of  telling  long  stories  and  doling 
out  advice,  to  the  annoyance  of  his  friends. 
To  avoid  becoming  the  bore  of  the  domes 
tic  circle,  he  proposed  to  ease  off  this  sur 
charge  of  the  intellect  by  inflicting  his  te- 
diousness  on  the  public  through  the  pages  of 
the  periodical.  The  arrangement  brought 
reputation  to  the  magazine  (which  was  pub- 


SUNNYSIDE.  171 

lished  in  the  days  when  the  honor  of  being 
in  print  was  supposed  by  the  publisher  to 
be  ample  compensation  to  the  scribe),  but 
little  profit  to  Mr.  Irving.  Daring  this 
period  he  interested  himself  in  an  interna 
tional  copyright,  as  a  means  of  fostering  our 
young  literature.  He  found  that  a  work  of 
merit,  written  by  an  American  who  had  not 
established  a  commanding  name  in  the  mar 
ket,  met  very  cavalier  treatment  from  our 
publishers,  who  frankly  said  that  they  need 
not  trouble  themselves  about  native  works, 
when  they  could  pick  up  every  day  success 
ful  books  from  the  British  press,  for  which 
they  had  to  pay  no  copyright.  Irving's  ad 
vocacy  of  the  proposed  law  was  entirely  un 
selfish,  for  his  own  market  was  secure. 

His  chief  works  in  these  ten  years  were, 
"  A  Tour  on  the  Prairies,"  "  Recollections 
of  Abbotsford  and  Newstead  Abbey,"  "  The 
Legends  of  the  Conquest  of  Spain,"  "  Asto 
ria"  (the  heavy  part  of  the  work  of  it 
was  done  by  his  nephew  Pierre),  "  Captain 
Bonneville,"  and  a  number  of  graceful  oc 
casional  papers,  collected  afterwards  under 
the  title  of  "  Wolfert's  Roost."  Two  other 
books  may  properly  be  mentioned  here,  al- 


172  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

though  they  did  not  appear  until  after  his 
return  from  his  absence  of  four  years  and  a 
half  at  the  court  of  Madrid ;  these  are  the 
"  Biography  of  Goldsmith  "  and  "  Mahomet 
and  his  Successors."  At  the  age  of  sixty- 
six,  he  laid  aside  the  "Life  of  Washing 
ton,"  on  which  he  was  engaged,  and  rapidly 
"  threw  off  "  these  two  books.  The  "  Gold 
smith  "  was  enlarged  from  a  sketch  he  had 
made  twenty-five  years  before.  It  is  an  ex 
quisite,  sympathetic  piece  of  work,  without 
pretension  or  any  subtle  verbal  analysis, 
but  on  the  whole  an  excellent  interpreta 
tion  of  the  character.  Author  and  subject 
had  much  in  common :  Irving  had  at  least 
a  kindly  sympathy  for  the  vagabondish  in 
clinations  of  his  predecessor,  and  with  his 
humorous  and  cheerful  regard  of  the  world  ; 
perhaps  it  is  significant  of  a  deeper  unity  in 
character  that  both,  at  times,  fancied  they 
could  please  an  intolerant  world  by  attempt 
ing  to  play  the  flute.  The  "  Mahomet "  is 
a  popular  narrative,  which  throws  no  new 
light  on  the  subject ;  it  is  pervaded  by  the 
author's  charm  of  style  and  equity  of  judg 
ment,  but  it  lacks  the  virility  of  Gibbon's 
masterly  picture  of  the  Arabian  prophet  and 
the  Saracenic  onset. 


SUNNYSIDE.  173 

We  need  not  dwell  longer  upon  this  pe 
riod.  One  incident  of  it,  however,  cannot 
be  passed  in  silence  :  that  was  the  abandon 
ment  of  his  life-long  project  of  writing  the 
History  of  the  Conquest  of  Mexico  to  Mr. 
William  H.  Prescott.  Ifc  had  been  a  scheme 
of  his  boyhood  ;  he  had  made  collections  of 
materials  for  it  during  his  first  residence 
in  Spain;  and  he  was  actually  and  absorb- 
edly  engaged  in  the  composition  of  the  first 
chapters,  when  he  was  sounded  by  Mr.  Cogs 
well,  of  the  Astor  Library,  in  behalf  of  Mr. 
Prescott.  Some  conversation  showed  that 
Mr.  Prescott  was  contemplating  the  subject 
upon  which  Mr.  Irving  was  engaged,  and 
the  latter  instantly  authorized  Mr.  Cogswell 
to  say  that  he  abandoned  it.  Although  our 
author  was  somewhat  far  advanced,  and  Mr. 
Prescott  had  not  yet  collected  his  materials, 
Irving  renounced  the  glorious  theme  in  such 
a  manner  that  Prescott  never  suspected  the 
pain  and  loss  it  cost  him,  nor  the  full  extent 
of  his  own  obligation.  Some  years  after 
wards  Irving  wrote  to  his  nephew  that  in 
giving  it  up  he  in  a  manner  gave  up  his 
bread,  as  he  had  no  other  subject  to  supply 
its  place  :  "  I  was,"  he  wrote,  "dismounted 


174  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

from  my  cJieval  de  bataille,  and  have  never 
been  completely  mounted  since."  But  he 
added  that  he  was  not  sorry  for  the  warm 
impulse  that  induced  him  to  abandon  the 
subject,  and  that  Mr.  Prescott's  treatment 
of  it  had  justified  his  opinion  of  him.  Not 
withstanding  Prescott's  very  brilliant  work, 
we  cannot  but  feel  some  regret  that  Irving 
did  not  write  a  Conquest  of  Mexico.  His 
method,  as  he  outlined  it,  would  have  been 
the  natural  one.  Instead  of  partially  satis 
fying  the  reader's  curiosity  in  a  preliminary 
essay,  in  which  the  Aztec  civilization  was 
exposed,  Irving  would  have  begun  with  the 
entry  of  the  conquerors,  and  carried  his 
reader  step  by  step  onward,  letting  him 
share  all  the  excitement  and  surprise  of  dis 
covery  which  the  invaders  experienced,  and 
learn  of  the  wonders  of  the  country  in  the 
manner  most  likely  to  impress  both  the  im 
agination  and  the  memory ;  and  with  his 
artistic  sense  of  the  value  of  the  picturesque 
he  would  have  brought  into  strong  relief  the 
dramatis  personce  of  the  story. 

In  1842,  Irving  was  tendered  the  honor 
of  the  mission  to  Madrid.  It  was  an  entire 
surprise  to  himself  and  to  his  friends.  He 


MISSION  TO  MADRID.  175 

came  to  look  upon  this  as  the  "  crowning 
honor  of  his  life,"  and  yet  when  the  news 
first  reached  him  he  paced  up  and  down 
his  room,  excited  and  astonished,  revolving 
in  his  mind  the  separation  from  home  and 
friends,  and  was  heard  murmuring,  half  to 
himself  and  half  to  his  nephew,  "  It  is  hard, 
—  very  hard  ;  yet  I  must  try  to  bear  it. 
God  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb." 
His  acceptance  of  the  position  was  doubt 
less  influenced  by  the  intended  honor  to 
his  profession,  by  the  gratifying  manner 
in  which  it  came  to  him,  by  his  desire  to 
please  his  friends,  and  the  belief,  which  was 
a  delusion,  that  diplomatic  life  in  Madrid 
would  offer  no  serious  interruption  to  his 
"  Life  of  Washington,"  in  which  he  had  just 
become  engaged.  The  nomination,  the  sug 
gestion  of  Daniel  Webster,  Tyler's  Secre 
tary  of  State,  was  cordially  approved  by  the 
President  and  cabinet,  and  confirmed  almost 
by  acclamation  in  the  Senate.  "  Ah,"  said 
Mr.  Clay,  who  was  opposing  nearly  all  the 
President's  appointments,  "this  is  a  nomi 
nation  everybody  will  concur  in  !  "  "  If  a 
person  of  more  merit  and  higher  qualifica 
tion,"  wrote  Mr.  Webster  in  his  official  no- 


176  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

tification,  "  had  presented  himself,  great  as 
is  my  personal  regard  for  you,  I  should  have 
yielded  it  to  higher  considerations."  No 
other  appointment  could  have  been  made  so 
complimentary  to  Spain,  and  it  remains  to 
this  day  one  of  the  mosl  honorable  to  his 
own  country. 

In  reading  Irving's  letters  written  during 
his  third  visit  abroad,  you  are  conscious 
that  the  glamour  of  life  is  gone  for  him, 
though  not  his  kindliness  towards  the  world, 
and  that  he  is  subject  to  few  illusions  ;  the 
show  and  pageantry  no  longer  enchant,  — 
they  only  weary.  The  novelty  was  gone, 
and  he  was  no  longer  curious  to  see  great 
sights  and  great  people.  He  had  declined  a 
public  dinner  in  New  York,  and  he  put  aside 
the  same  hospitality  offered  by  Liverpool 
and  by  Glasgow.  In  London  he  attended 
the  Queen's  grand  fancy  ball,  which  sur 
passed  anything  he  had  seen  in  splendor 
and  picturesque  effect.  "  The  personage," 
he  writes,  "  who  appeared  least  to  enjoy  the 
scene  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  little  Queen 
herself.  She  was  flushed  and  heated,  and 
evidently  fatigued  and  oppressed  with  the 
state  she  had  to  keep  up  and  the  regal  robes 


MISSION  TO  MADRID.  177 

in  which  she  was  arrayed,  and  especially  by 
a  crown  of  gold,  which  weighed  heavy  on 
her  brow,  and  to  which  she  was  continually 
raising  her  hand  to  move  it  slightly  when  it 
pressed.  I  hope  and  trust  her  real  crown 
sits  easier."  The  bearing  of  Prince  Albert 
he  found  prepossessing,  and  he  adds,  "  He 
speaks  English  very  well ;"  as  if  that  were  a 
useful  accomplishment  for  an  English  Prince 
Consort.  His  reception  at  court  and  by 
the  ministers  and  diplomatic  corps  was  very 
kind,  and  he  greatly  enjoyed  meeting  his 
old  friends,  Leslie,  Rogers,  and  Moore.  At 
Paris,  in  an  informal  presentation  to  the 
royal  family,  he  experienced  a  very  cordial 
welcome  from  the  King  and  Queen  and 
Madame  Adelaide,  each  of  whom  took  occa 
sion  to  say  something  complimentary  about 
his  writings  ;  but  he  escaped  as  soon  as  pos 
sible  from  social  engagements.  "  Amidst 
all  the  splendors  of  London  and  Paris,  I  find 
my  imagination  refuses  to  take  fire,  and  my 
heart  still  yearns  after  dear  little  Sunny- 
side."  Of  an  anxious  friend  in  Paris,  who 
thought  Irving  was  ruining  his  prospects  by 
neglecting  to  leave  his  card  with  this  or 
that  duchess  who  had  sought  his  acquaint- 
12 


178  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

ance,  he  writes  :  "  He  attributes  all  this  to 
very  excessive  modesty,  not  dreaming  that 
the  empty  intercourse  of  saloons  with  people 
of  rank  and  fashion  could  be  a  bore  to  one 
who  has  run  the  rounds  of  society  for  the 
greater  part  of  half  a  century,  and  who  likes 
to  consult  his  own  humor  and  pursuits." 

When  Irving  reached  Madrid  the  affairs 
of  the  kingdom  had  assumed  a  powerful 
dramatic  interest,  wanting  in  none  of  the 
romantic  elements  that  characterize  the 
whole  history  of  the  peninsula.  "  The  fut 
ure  career  [he  writes]  of  this  gallant  sol 
dier,  Espartero,  whose  merits  and  services 
have  placed  him  at  the  head  of  the  govern 
ment,  and  the  future  fortunes  of  these  iso 
lated  little  princesses,  the  Queen  and  her 
sister,  have  an  uncertainty  hanging  about 
them  worthy  of  the  fifth  act  in  a  melo 
drama."  The  drama  continued,  with  con 
stant  shifting  of  scene,  as  long  as  Irving  re 
mained  in  Spain,  and  gave  to  his  diplomatic 
life  intense  interest,  and  at  times  perilous 
excitement.  His  letters  are  full  of  animated 
pictures  of  the  changing  progress  of  the 
play  ;  and  although  they  belong  rather  to  the 
gossip  of  history  than  to  literary  biography, 


MISSION  TO  MADRID.  179 

they  cannot  be  altogether  omitted.  The 
duties  which  the  minister  had  to  perform 
were  unusual,  delicate,  and  difficult ;  but  I 
believe  he  acquitted  himself  of  them  with  the 
skill  of  a  born  diplomatist.  When  he  went 
to  Spain  before,  in  1826,  Ferdinand  VII. 
was,  by  aid  of  French  troops,  on  the  throne, 
the  liberties  of  the  kingdom  were  crushed, 
and  her  most  enlightened  men  were  in  exile. 
While  he  still  resided  there,  in  1829,  Fer 
dinand  married,  for  his  fourth  wife,  Maria 
Christina,  sister  of  the  King  of  Naples,  and 
niece  of  the  Queen  of  Louis  Philippe.  By 
her  he  had  two  daughters,  his  only  chil 
dren.  In  order  that  his  own  progeny  might 
succeed  him,  he  set  aside  the  Salique  law 
(which  had  been  imposed  by  France)  just 
before  his  death,  in  1833,  and  revived  the 
old  Spanish  law  of  succession.  His  eldest 
daughter,  then  three  years  old,  was  pro 
claimed  Queen,  by  the  name  of  Isabella  II., 
and  her  mother  guardian  during  her  minor 
ity,  which  would  end  at  the  age  of  fourteen. 
Don  Carlos,  the  king's  eldest  brother,  im 
mediately  set  up  the  standard  of  rebellion, 
supported  by  the  absolutist  aristocracy,  the 
monks,  and  a  great  part  of  the  clergy.  The 


180  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

liberals  rallied  to  the  Queen.  The  Queen 
Regent  did  not,  however,  act  in  good  faith 
with  the  popular  party  :  she  resisted  all 
salutary  reform,  would  not  restore  the  Con 
stitution  of  1812  until  compelled  to  by  a 
popular  uprising,  and  disgraced  herself  by 
a  scandalous  connection  with  one  Muiios, 
one  of  the  royal  body  guards.  She  enriched 
this  favorite  and  amassed  a  vast  fortune  for 
herself,  which  she  sent  out  of  the  country. 
In  1839,  when  Don  Carlos  was  driven  out 
of  the  country  by  the  patriot  soldier  Es- 
partero,  she  endeavored  to  gain  him  over  to 
her  side,  but  failed.  Espartero  became  Re 
gent,  and  Maria  Christina  repaired  to  Paris, 
where  she  was  received  with  great  distinc 
tion  by  Louis  Philippe,  and  Paris  became 
the  focus  of  all  sorts  of  machinations  against 
the  constitutional  government  of  Spain,  and 
of  plots  for  its  overthrow.  One  of  these 
had  just  been  defeated  at  the  time  of  Ir- 
ving's  arrival.  It  was  a  desperate  attempt 
of  a  band  of  soldiers  of  the  rebel  army  to 
carry  off  the  little  Queen  and  her  sister, 
which  was  frustrated  only  by  the  gallant 
resistance  of  the  halberdiers  in  the  palace. 
The  little  princesses  had  scarcely  recovered 


MISSION  TO  MADRID.  181 

from  the  horror  of  this  night  attack  when 
our  minister  presented  his  credentials  to 
the  Queen,  through  the  Regent,  thus  break 
ing  a  diplomatic  dead-lock,  in  which  he  was 
followed  by  all  the  other  embassies  except 
the  French.  I  take  some  passages  from  the 
author's  description  of  his  first  audience  at 
the  royal  palace  :  — 

"  We  passed  through  the  spacious  court,  up  the 
noble  staircase,  arid  through  the  long  suites  of 
apartments  of  this  splendid  edifice,  most  of  them 
silent  and  vacant,  the  casements  closed  to  keep 
out  the  heat,  so  that  a  twilight  reigned  through 
out  the  mighty  pile,  not  a  little  emblematical  of 
the  dubious  fortunes  of  its  inmates.  It  seemed 
more  like  traversing  a  convent  than  a  palace.  I 
ought  to  have  mentioned  that  in  ascending  the 
grand  staircase  we  found  the  portal  at  the  head 
of  it,  opening  into  the  royal  suite  of  apartments, 
still  bearing  the  marks  of  the  midnight  attack 
upon  the  palace  in  October  last,  when  an  at 
tempt  was  made  to  get  possession  of  the  persons 
of  the  little  Queen  and  her  sister,  to  carry  them 
off.  .  .  .  The  marble  casements  of  the  doors  had 
been  shattered  in  several  places,  and  the  double 
doors  themselves  pierced  all  over  with  bullet  holes, 
from  the  musketry  that  played  upon  them  from 
the  staircase  during  that  eventful  night.  What 


182  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

must  have  been  the  feelings  of  those  poor  chil 
dren,  on  listening,  from  their  apartment,  to  the 
horrid  tumult,  the  outcries  of  a  furious  multitude, 
and  the  reports  of  fire-arms  echoing  and  re 
verberating  through  the  vaulted  halls  and  spa 
cious  courts  of  this  immense  edifice,  and  dubious 
whether  their  own  lives  were  not  the  object  of 
the  assault ! 

"  After  passing  through  various  chambers  of 
the  palace,  now  silent  and  sombre,  but  which  I 
had  traversed  in  former  days,  on  grand  court  oc 
casions  in  the  time  of  Ferdinand  VII.,  when  they 
were  glittering  with  all  the  splendor  of  a  court, 
we  paused  in  a  great  saloon,  with  high-vaulted 
ceiling  incrusted  with  florid  devices  in  porcelain, 
and  hung  with  silken  tapestry,  but  all  in  dim 
twilight,  like  the  rest  of  the  palace.  At  one  end 
of  the  saloon  the  door  opened  to  an  almost  inter 
minable  range  of  other  chambers,  through  which, 
at  a  distance,  we  had  a  glimpse  of  some  indis 
tinct  figures  in  black.  They  glided  into  the 
saloon  slowly,  and  with  noiseless  steps.  It  was 
the  little  Queen,  with  her  governess,  Madame 
Mina,  widow  of  the  general  of  that  name,  and 
her  guardian,  the  excellent  Arguelles,  all  in  deep 
mourning  for  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  The  little 
Queen  advanced  some  steps  within  the  saloon  and 
then  paused.  Madame  Mina  took  her  station 
a  little  distance  behind  her.  The  Count  Almo- 


MISSION  TO  MADRID.  183 

dovar  then  introduced  me  to  the  Queen  in  my 
official  capacity,  and  she  received  me  with  a 
grave  and  quiet  welcome,  expressed  in  a  very 
low  voice.  She  is  nearly  twelve  years  of  age, 
and  is  sufficiently  well  grown  for  her  years.  She 
had  a  somewhat  fair  complexion,  quite  pale,  with 
bluish  or  light  gray  eyes ;  a  grave  demeanor, 
but  a  graceful  deportment.  I  could  not  but  re 
gard  her  with  deep  interest,  knowing  what  im 
portant  concerns  depended  upon  the  life  of  this 
fragile  little  being,  and  to  what  a  stormy  and 
precarious  career  she  might  be  destined.  Her 
solitary  position,  also,  separated  from  all  her 
kindred  except  her  little  sister,  a  mere  effigy  of 
royalty  in  the  hands  of  statesmen,  and  surrounded 
by  the  formalities  and  ceremonials  of  state, 
which  spread  sterility  around  the  occupant  of  a 
throne." 

I  have  quoted  this  passage  not  more  on 
account  of  its  intrinsic  interest,  than  as  a 
specimen  of  the  author's  consummate  art  of 
conveying  an  impression  by  what  I  may  call 
the  tone  of  his  style;  and  this  appears  in 
all  his  correspondence  relating  to  this  pict 
uresque  and  eventful  period.  During  the 
four  years  of  his  residence  the  country  was 
in  a  constant  state  of  excitement  and  often 
of  panic.  Armies  were  marcliing  over  the 


184  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

kingdom.  Madrid  was  in  a  state  of  siege, 
expecting  an  assault  at  one  time ;  confusion 
reigned  amid  the  changing  adherents  about 
the  person  of  the  child  Queen.  The  duties 
of  a  minister  were  perplexing  enough,  when 
the  Spanish  government  was  changing  its 
character  and  its  personnel  with  the  rapidity 
of  shifting  scenes  in  a  pantomime.  "  This 
consumption  of  ministers,"  wrote  Irving  to 
Mr.  Webster,  "  is  appalling.  To  carry  on 
a  negotiation  with  such  transient  function 
aries  is  like  bargaining  at  the  window  of 
a  railroad  car :  before  you  can  get  a  reply 
to  a  proposition  the  other  party  is  out  of 
sight." 

Apart  from  politics,  Irving's  residence 
was  full  of  half-melancholy  recollections 
and  associations.  In  a  letter  to  his  old 
comrade  Prince  Dolgorouki,  then  Russian 
Minister  at  Naples,  he  recalls  the  days  of 
their  delightful  intercourse  at  the  D'Ou- 
brils :  — 

"  Time  dispels  charms  and  illusions.  You  re 
member  how  much  I  was  struck  with  a  beautiful 
young  woman  (1  will  not  mention  names)  who 
appeared  in  a  tableau  as  Murillo's  Virgin  of  the 
Assumption?  She  was  young,  recently  married, 


MISSION  TO  MADRID.  185 

fresh  and  unhackneyed  in  society,  and  my  im 
agination  decked  her  out  with  everything  that 
was  pure,  lovely,  innocent,  and  angelic  in  wom 
anhood.  She  was  pointed  out  to  me  in  the 
theatre  shortly  after  my  arrival  in  Madrid.  I 
turned  with  eagerness  to  the  original  of  the 
picture  that  had  ever  remained  hung  up  in  sanc 
tity  in  my  mind.  I  found  her  still  handsome, 
though  somewhat  matronly  in  appearance,  seated, 
with  her  daughters,  in  the  box  of  a  fashionable 
nobleman,  younger  than  herself,  rich  in  purse 
but  poor  in  intellect,  and  who  was  openly  and  no 
toriously  her  cavalier  servante.  The  charm  was 
broken,  the  picture  fell  from  the  wall.  She  may 
have  the  customs  of  a  depraved  country  and  licen 
tious  state  of  society  to  excuse  her ;  but  I  can 
never  think  of  her  again  in  the  halo  of  feminine 
purity  and  loveliness  that  surrounded  the  Virgin 
of  Murillo." 

Daring  Irving's  ministry  he  was  twice 
absent,  briefly  in  Paris  and  London,  and  was 
called  to  the  latter  place  for  consultation  in 
regard  to  the  Oregon  boundary  dispute,  in 
tbe  settlement  of  which  he  rendered  valu 
able  service.  Space  is  not  given  me  for 
further  quotations  from  Irving's  brilliant 
descriptions  o|  court,  characters,  and  society 
in  that  revolutionary  time,  nor  of  his  half- 


186  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

melancholy  pilgrimage  to  the  southern  scenes 
of  his  former  reveries.  But  I  will  take  a 
page  from  a  letter  to  his  sister,  Mrs.  Paris, 
describing  his  voyage  from  Barcelona  to 
Marseilles,  which  exhibits  the  lively  sus 
ceptibility  of  the  author  and  diplomat  who 
was  then  in  his  sixty-first  year  :  — 

"  While  I  am  writing  at  a  table  in  the  cabin,  I 
am  sensible  of  the  power  of  a  pair  of  splendid 
Spanish  eyes  which  are  occasionally  flashing  upon 
me,  and  which  almost  seem  to  throw  a  light  upon 
the  paper.  Since  I  cannot  break  the  spell,  I  will 
describe  the  owner  of  them.  She  is  a  young 
married  lady,  about  four  or  five  and  twenty,  mid 
dle  sized,  finely  modeled,  a  Grecian  outline  of 
face,  a  complexion  sallow  yet  healthful,  raven 
black  hair,  eyes  dark,  large,  and  beaming,  soft 
ened  by  long  eyelashes,  lips  full  and  rosy  red, 
yet  finely  chiseled,  and  teeth  of  dazzling  white- 
Bess.  She  is  dressed  in  black,  as  if  in  mourning ; 
on  one  hand  is  a  black  glove ;  the  other  hand, 
ungloved,  is  small,  exquisitely  formed,  with  taper 
fingers  and  blue  veins.  She  has  just  put  it  up 
to  adjust  her  clustering  black  locks.  I  never  saw 
female  hand  more  exquisite.  Really,  if  I  were  a 
young  man,  I  should  not  be  able  to  draw  the  por 
trait  of  this  beautiful  creature  so  calmly. 

"  I  was  interrupted  in  my  letter  writing,  by  an 


MISSION  TO  MADRID.  187 

observation  of  the  lady  whom  I  was  describing. 
She  had  caught  my  eye  occasionally,  as  it  glanced 
from  my  letter  toward  her.  *  Really,  Senor,' 
said  she,  at  length,  with  a  smile,  *  one  would  think 
you  were  a  painter  taking  my  likeness.'  I  could 
not  resist  the  impulse.  '  Indeed/  said  I,  1 1  am 
taking  it ;  I  am  writing  to  a  friend  the  other  side 
of  the  world,  discussing  things  that  are  passing 
before  me,  and  I  could  not  help  noting  down  one 
of  the  best  specimens  of  the  country  that  I  had 
met  with.'  A  little  bantering  took  place  between 
the  young  lady,  her  husband,  and  myself,  which 
ended  in  my  reading  off,  as  well  as  I  could  into 
Spanish,  the  description  I  had  just  written  down. 
It  occasioned  a  world  of  merriment,  and  was  taken 
in  excellent  part.  The  lady's  cheek,  for  once, 
mantled  with  the  rose.  She  laughed,  shook  her 
head,  and  said  I  was  a  very  fanciful  portrait 
painter ;  and  the  husband  declared  that,  if  I  would 
stop  at  St.  Filian,  all  the  ladies  in  the  place  would 
crowd  to  have  their  portraits  taken, — my  pictures 
were  so  flattering.  I  have  just  parted  with  them. 
The  steamship  stopped  in  the  open  sea,  just  in 
front  of  the  little  bay  of  St.  Filian ;  boats  came 
off  from  shore  for  the  party.  I  helped  the  beau 
tiful  original  of  the  portrait  into  the  boat,  and 
promised  her  and  her  husband  if  ever  I  should 
come  to  St.  Filian  I  would  pay  them  a  visit.  The 
last  I  noticed  of  her  was  a  Spanish  farewell  wave 


188  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

of  her  beautiful  white  hand,  and  the  gleam  of  her 
dazzling  teeth  as  she  smiled  adieu.  So  there  's 
a  very  tolerable  touch  of  romance  for  a  gentle 
man  of  my  years." 

When  Irving  announced  his  recall  from 
the  court  of  Madrid,  the  young  Queen  said 
to  him  in  reply :  "  You  may  take  with  you 
into  private  life  the  intimate  conviction  that 
your  frank  and  loyal  conduct  has  contrib 
uted  to  draw  closer  the  amicable  relations 
which  exist  between  Ntfrth  America  and  the 
Spanish  nation,  and  that  your  distinguished 
personal  merits  have  gained  in  my  heart 
the  appreciation  which  you  merit  by  more 
than  one  title."  The  author  was  anxious  to 
return.  From  the  midst  of  court  life  in 
April,  1845,  he  had  written  :  "  I  long  to  be 
once  more  back  at  dear  little  Sunnyside, 
while  I  have  yet  strength  and  good  spirits 
to  enjoy  the  simple  pleasures  of  the  country, 
and  to  rally  a  happy  family  group  once  more 
about  me.  I  grudge  every  year  of  absence 
that  rolls  by.  To-morrow  is  my  birthday. 
I  shall  then  be  sixty-two  years  old.  The 
evening  of  life  is  fast  drawing  over  me ;  still 
I  hope  to  get  back  among  my  friends  while 
there  is  a  little  sunshine  left." 


MISSION  TO  MADRID.  189 

It  was  the  19th  of  September,  1846,  says 
his  biographer,  "  when  the  impatient  long 
ing  of  his  heart  was  gratified,  and  he  found 
himself  restored  to  his  home  for  the  thir 
teen  years  of  happy  life  still  remaining  to 
him." 


CHAPTER  IX. 
THE   CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS. 

THE  Knickerbocker's  "  History  of  New 
York  "  and  the  "  Sketch-Book  "  never  would 
have  won  for  Irving  the  gold  medal  of  the 
Royal  Society  of  Literature,  or  the  degree 
of  D.  C.  L.  from  Oxford. 

However  much  the  world  would  have 
liked  frankly  to  honor  the  writer  for  that 
which  it  most  enjoyed  and  was  under  most 
obligations  for,  it  would  have  been  a  vio 
lent  shock  to  the  constitution  of  things  to 
have  given  such  honor  to  the  mere  humor 
ist  and  the  writer  of  short  sketches.  The 
conventional  literary  proprieties  must  be 
observed.  Only  some  laborious,  solid,  and 
improving  work  of  the  pen  could  sanction 
such  distinction,  —  a  book  of  research  or  an 
historical  composition.  It  need  not  neces 
sarily  be  dull,  but  it  must  be  grave  in  tone 
and  serious  in  intention,  in  order  to  give 
the  author  high  recognition. 


THE    CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.        191 

Irving  himself  shared  this  opinion.  He 
hoped,  in  the  composition  of  his  "  Colum 
bus  "  and  his  u  Washington,"  to  produce 
works  which  should  justify  the  good  opinion 
his  countrymen  had  formed  of  him,  should 
reasonably  satisfy  the  expectations  excited 
by  his  lighter  books,  and  lay  for  him  the 
basis  of  enduring  reputation.  All  that  he 
had  done  before  was  the  play  of  careless 
genius,  the  exercise  of  frolicsome  fancy, 
which  might  amuse  and  perhaps  win  an  af 
fectionate  regard  for  the  author,  but  could 
not  justify  a  high  respect  or  secure  a  per 
manent  place  in  literature.  For  this,  some 
work  of  scholarship  and  industry  was 
needed. 

And  yet  everybody  would  probably  have 
admitted  that  there  was  but  one  man  then 
living  who  could  have  created  and  peopled 
the  vast  and  humorous  world  of  the  Knicker 
bockers  ;  that  all  the  learning  of  Oxford  and 
Cambridge  together  would  not  enable  a  man 
to  draw  the  whimsical  portrait  of  Ichabod 
Crane,  or  to  outline  the  fascinating  legend 
of  Rip  Van  Winkle  ;  while  Europe  was  full 
of  scholars  of  more  learning  than  Irving, 
£,nd  writers  of  equal  skill  in  narrative,  who 


192  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

might  have  told  the  story  of  Columbus  as 
well  as  he  told  it  and  perhaps  better.  The 
under-graduates  of  Oxford  who  hooted  their 
admiration  of  the  shy  author  when  he  ap 
peared  in  the  theatre  to  receive  his  com 
plimentary  degree  perhaps  understood  this, 
and  expressed  it  in  their  shouts  of  uDie- 
drich  Knickerbocker,"  "  Ichabod  Crane," 
"Rip  Van  Winkle." 

Irving's  "gift"  was  humor ;  and  allied  to 
this  was  sentiment.  These  qualities  mod 
ified  and  restrained  each  other ;  and  it  was 
by  these  that  he  touched  the  heart.  He 
acquired  other  powers  which  he  himself 
may  have  valued  more  highly,  and  which 
brought  him  more  substantial  honors  ;  but 
the  historical  compositions,  which  he  and 
his  contemporaries  regarded  as  a  solid  basis 
of  fame,  could  be  spared  without  serious 
loss,  while  the  works  of  humor,  the  first 
fruits  of  his  genius,  are  possessions  in  Eng 
lish  literature  the  loss  of  which  would  be 
irreparable.  The  world  may  never  openly 
allow  to  humor  a  position  "  above  the  salt," 
but  it  clings  to  its  fresh  and  original  produc 
tions,  generation  after  generation,  finding 
room  for  them  in  its  accumulating  literary 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC    WORKS.         193 

baggage,  while  more  "important"  tomes  of 
scholarship  and  industry  strew  the  line  of 
its  march. 

I  feel  that  this  study  of  Irving  as  a  man 
of  letters  would  be  incomplete,  especially 
for  the  young  readers  of  this  generation,  if 
it  did  not  contain  some  more  extended  cita 
tions  from  those  works  upon  which  we  have 
formed  our  estimate  of  his  quality.  Wo 
will  take  first  a  few  passages  from  the  "  His 
tory  of  New  York." 

It  has  been  said  that  Irving  lacked  imag 
ination.  That,  while  he  had  humor  and 
feeling  and  fancy,  ho  was  wanting  in  the 
higher  quality,  which  is  the  last  test  of  gen 
ius.  We  have  come  to  attach  to  the  word 
"  imagination  "  a  larger  meaning  than  the 
mere  reproduction  in  the  mind  of  certain 
absent  objects  of  sense  that  have  been  per 
ceived  ;  there  must  be.  a  suggestion  of  some 
thing  beyond  these,  and  an  ennobling  sug 
gestion,  if  not  a  combination,  that  amounts 
to  a  new  creation.  Now,  it  seems  to  me 
that  the  transmutation  of  the  crude  and 
theretofore  un  poetical  materials,  which  he 
found  in  the  New  World,  into  what  is  as 

13 


194  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

absolute  a  creation  as  exists  in  literature, 
was  a  distinct  work  of  the  imagination.  Its 
humorous  quality  does  not  interfere  with  its 
largeness  of  outline,  nor  with  its  essential 
poetic  coloring.  For,  whimsical  and  com 
ical  as  is  the  "  Knickerbocker  "  creation,  it 
is  enlarged  to  the  proportion  of  a  realm, 
and  over  that  new  country  of  the  imagina 
tion  is  always  the  rosy  light  of  sentiment. 

This  largeness  of  modified  conception 
cannot  be  made  apparent  in  such  brief  ex 
tracts  as  we  can  make,  but  they  will  show 
its  quality  and  the  author's  humor.  The 
Low-Dutch  settlers  of  the  Nieuw  Neder- 
landts  are  supposed  to  have  sailed  from 
Amsterdam  in  a  ship  called  the  Goede 
Vrouw,  built  by  the  carpenters  of  that  city, 
who  always  model  their  ships  on  the  fair 
forms  of  their  countrywomen.  This  vessel, 
whose  beauteous  model  was  declared  to  be 
the  greatest  belle  in  Amsterdam,  had  one 
hundred  feet  in  the  beam,  one  hundred  feet 
in  the  keel,  and  one  hundred  feet  from  the 
bottom  of  the  stern-post  to  the  taffrail. 
Those  illustrious  adventurers  who  sailed  in 
her  landed  on  the  Jersey  flats,  preferring  a 
marshy  ground,  where  they  could  drive 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         195 

piles  and  construct  dykes.  They  made  a 
settlement  at  the  Indian  village  of  Commu- 
nipaw,  the  egg  from  which  was  hatched  the 
mighty  city  of  New  York.  In  the  author's 
time  this  place  had  lost  its  importance:  — 

"  Communipaw  is  at  present  but  a  small  vil 
lage,  pleasantly  situated,  among  rural  scenery, 
on  that  beauteous  part  of  the  Jersey  shore  which 
was  known  in  ancient  legends  by  the  name  of 
Pavonia,1  and  commands  a  grand  prospect  of  the 
superb  bay  of  New  York.  It  is  within  but  half 
an  hour's  sail  of  the  latter  place,  provided  you 
have  a  fair  wind,  and  may  be  distinctly  seen  from 
the  city.  Nay,  it  is  a  well-known  fact,  which  I 
can  testify  from  my  own  experience,  that  on  a 
clear  still  summer  evening,  you  may  hear,  from 
the  Battery  of  New  York,  the  obstreperous  peals 
of  broad-mouthed  laughter  of  the  Dutch  negroes 
at  Communipaw,  who,  like  most  other  negroes, 
are  famous  for  their  risible  powers.  This  is  pe 
culiarly  the  case  on  Sunday  evenings,  when,  it  is 
remarked  by  an  ingenious  and  observant  philos 
opher,  who  has  made  great  discoveries  in  the 
neighborhood  of  this  city,  that  they  always  laugh 
loudest,  which  he  attributes  to  the  circumstance 
of  their  having  their  holiday  clothes  on. 

1  Pavonia  in  the  ancient  maps,  is  given  to  a  tract  of 
country  extending  from  about  Hoboken  to  Amboy. 


196  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

"  These  negroes,  in  fact,  like  the  monks  of  the 
dark  ages,  engross  all  the  knowledge  of  the  place, 
and  being  infinitely  more  adventurous  and  more 
knowing  than  their  masters,  carry  on  all  the  for 
eign  trade  ;  making  frequent  voyages  to  town  in 
canoes  loaded  with  oysters,  buttermilk,  and  cab 
bages.  They  are  great  astrologers,  predicting 
the  different  changes  of  weather  almost  as  accu 
rately  as  an  almanac ;  they  are  moreover  exqui 
site  performers  on  three-stringed  fiddles  ;  in  whist 
ling  they  almost  boast  the  far-famed  powers  of 
Orpheus's  lyre,  for  not  a  horse  or  an  ox  in  the 
place,  when  at  the  plough  or  before  the  wagon, 
will  budge  a  foot  until  he  hears  the  well-known 
whistle  of  his  black  driver  and  companion.  And 
from  their  amazing  skill  at  casting  up  accounts 
upon  their  fingers,  they  are  regarded  with  as 
much  veneration  as  were  the  disciples  of  Py 
thagoras  of  yore,  when  initiated  into  the  sacred 
quaternary  of  numbers. 

"  As  to  the  honest  burghers  of  Communipaw, 
like  wise  men  and  sound  philosophers,  they  never 
look  beyond  their  pipes,  nor  trouble  their  heads 
about  any  affairs  out  of  their  immediate  neigh 
borhood  ;  so  that  they  live  in  profound  and  en 
viable  ignorance  of  all  the  troubles,  anxieties,  and 
revolutions  of  this  distracted  planet.  I  am  even 
told  that  many  among  them  do  verily  believe  that 
Holland,  of  which  they  have  heard  so  much  from 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.        197 

tradition,  is  situated  somewhere  on  Long  Island, 
—  that  Spiking-devil  and  the  Narrows  are  the 
two  ends  of  the  world,  —  that  the  country  is 
still  under  the  dominion  of  their  High  Mighti 
nesses,  —  and  that  the  city  of  New  York  still  goes 
by  the  name  of  Nieuw  Amsterdam.  They  meet 
every  Saturday  afternoon  at  the  only  tavern  in 
the  place,  which  bears  as  a  sign  a  square-headed 
likeness  of  the  Prince  of  Orange,  where  they 
smoke  a  silent  pipe,  by  way  of  promoting  social 
conviviality,  and  invariably  drink  a  mug  of  cider 
to  the  success  of  Admiral  Van  Tromp,  who  they 
imagine  is  still  sweeping  the  British  channel 
with  a  broom  at  his  mast-head. 

"  Communipaw,  in  short,  is  one  of  the  numer 
ous  little  villages  in  the  vicinity  of  this  most  beau 
tiful  of  cities,  which  are  so  many  strongholds  and 
fastnesses,  whither  the  primitive  manners  of  our 
Dutch  forefathers  have  retreated,  and  where  they 
are  cherished  with  devout  and  scrupulous  strict 
ness.  The  dress  of  the  original  settlers  is  handed 
down  inviolate,  from  father  to  son  :  the  identical 
broad-brimmed  hat,  broad-skirted  coat,  and  broad- 
bottomed  breeches,  continue  from  generation  to 
generation ;  and  several  gigantic  knee-buckles  of 
massy  silver  are  still  in  wear,  that  made  gallant 
display  in  the  days  of  the  patriarchs  of  Com 
munipaw.  The  language  likewise  continues  un 
adulterated  by  barbarous  innovations ;  and  so 


198  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

critically  correct  is  the  village  schoolmaster  in  his 
dialect,  that  his  reading  of  a  Low-Dutch  psalm 
has  much  the  same  effect  on  the  nerves  as  the 
filing  of  a  handsaw." 

The  early  prosperity  of  this  settlement 
is  dwelt  on  with  satisfaction  by  the  au 
thor  :  — 

"  The  neighboring  Indians  in  a  short  time  be 
came  accustomed  to  the  uncouth  sound  of  the 
Dutch  language,  and  an  intercourse  gradually 
took  place  between  them  and  the  new-comers. 
The  Indians  were  much  given  to  long  talks,  and 
the  Dutch  to  long  silence  ;  —  in  this  particular, 
therefore,  they  accommodated  each  other  com 
pletely.  The  chiefs  would  make  long  speeches 
about  the  big  bull,  the  Wabash,  and  the  Great 
Spirit,  to  which  the  others  would  listen  very  at 
tentively,  smoke  their  pipes,  and  grunt  yah,  myn- 
her,  —  whereat  the  poor  savages  were  wondrously 
delighted.  They  instructed  the  new  settlers  in 
the  best  art  of  curing  and  smoking  tobacco,  while 
the  latter,  in  return,  made  them  drunk  with  true 
Hollands  —  and  then  taught  them  the  art  of 
making  bargains. 

"  A  brisk  trade  for  furs  was  soon  opened  ;  the 
Dutch  traders  were  scrupulously  honest  in  their 
dealings  and  purchased  by  weight,  establishing  it 
as  an  invariable  table  of  avoirdupois,  that  the 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC    WORKS.         199 

hand  of  a  Dutchman  weighed  one  pound,  and  his 
foot  two  pounds.  It  is  true,  the  simple  Indians 
were  often  puzzled  by  the  great  disproportion  be 
tween  bulk  and  weight,  for  let  them  place  a  bun 
dle  of  furs,  never  so  large,  in  one  scale,  and  a 
Dutchman  put  his  hand  or  foot  in  the  other,  the 
bundle  was  sure  to  kick  the  beam  ;  —  never  was 
a  package  of  furs  known  to  weigh  more  than 
two  pounds  in  the  market  of  Communipaw  ! 

"  This  is  a  singular  fact,  —  but  I  have  it  direct 
from  my  great-great-grandfather,  who  had  risen 
to  considerable  importance  in  the  colony,  being 
promoted  to  the  office  of  weigh-master,  on  ac 
count  of  the  uncommon  heaviness  of  his  foot. 

"  The  Dutch  possessions  in  this  part  of  the 
globe  began  now  to  assume  a  very  thriving  ap 
pearance,  and  were  comprehended  under  the  gen 
eral  title  of  Nieuw  Nederlandts,  on  account,  as 
the  Sage  Vander  Donck  observes,  of  their  great 
resemblance  to  the  Dutch  Netherlands,  —  which 
indeed  was  truly  remarkable,  excepting  that  tho 
former  were  rugged  and  mountainous,  and  the 
latter  level  and  marshy.  About  this  time  the 
tranquillity  of  the  Dutch  colonists  was  doomed 
to  suffer  a  temporary  interruption.  In  1614, 
Captain  Sir  Samuel  Argal,  sailing  under  a  com 
mission  from  Dale,  governor  of  Virginia,  visited 
the  Dutch  settlements  on  Hudson  River,  and 
demanded  their  submission  to  the  English  crown 


200  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

and  Virginian  dominion.  To  this  arrogant  de 
mand,  as  they  were  in  no  condition  to  resist  it, 
they  submitted  for  the  time,  like  discreet  and 
reasonable  men. 

"It  does  not  appear  that  the  valiant  Argal 
molested  the  settlement  of  Communipaw ;  on 
the  contrary,  I  am  told  that  when  his  vessel  first 
hove  in  sight,  the  worthy  burghers  were  seized 
with  such  a  panic,  that  they  fell  to  smoking  their 
pipes  with  astonishing  vehemence ;  insomuch  that 
they  quickly  raised  a  cloud,  which,  combining 
with  the  surrounding  woods  and  marshes,  com 
pletely  enveloped  and  concealed  their  beloved  vil 
lage,  and  overhung  the  fair  regions  of  Pavonia 
—  so  that  the  terrible  Captain  Argal  passed  on 
totally  unsuspicious  that  a  sturdy  little  Dutch  set 
tlement  lay  snugly  couched  in  the  mud,  under 
cover  of  all  this  pestilent  vapor.  In  commemo 
ration  of  this  fortunate  escape,  the  worthy  inhab 
itants  have  continued  to  smoke,  almost  without 
intermission,  unto  this  very  day ;  which  is  said 
to  be  the  cause  of  the  remarkable  fog  which 
often  hangs  over  Communipaw  of  a  clear  after 
noon." 

The  golden  age  of  New  York  was  under 
the  reign  of  Walter  Van  Twiller,  the  first 
governor  of  the  province,  and  the  best  it 
ever  had.  In  his  sketch  of  this  excellent 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         201 

magistrate  Irving  has  embodied  the  abun 
dance  and  tranquillity  of  those  halcyon 
days : — 

"  The  renowned  Wouter  (or  Walter)  Van  Twil- 
ler  was  descended  from  a  long  line  of  Dutch 
burgomasters,  who  had  successively  dozed  away 
their  lives,  and  grown  fat  upon  the  bench  of 
magistracy  in  Rotterdam ;  and  who  had  com 
ported  themselves  with  such  singular  wisdom 
and  propriety,  that  they  were  never  either  heard 
or  talked  of  —  which,  next  to  being  universally 
applauded,  should  be  the  object  of  ambition  of 
all  magistrates  and  rulers.  There  are  two  oppo 
site  ways  by  which  some  men  make  a  figure  in 
the  world  :  one,  by  talking  faster  than  they  think, 
and  the  other,  by  holding  their  tongues  and  not 
thinking  at  all.  By  the  first,  many  a  smatterer 
acquires  the  reputation  of  a  man  of  quick  parts  ; 
by  the  other,  many  a  dunderpate,  like  the  owl, 
the  stupidest  of  birds,  comes  to  be  considered 
the  very  type  of  wisdom.  This,  by  the  way,  is 
a  casual  remark,  which  I  would  not,  for  the  uni 
verse,  have  it  thought  I  apply  to  Governor  Van 
Twiller.  It  is  true  he  was  a  man  shut  up  within 
himself,  like  an  oyster,  and  rarely  spoke,  except 
in  monosyllables  ;  but  then  it  was  allowed  he 
seldom  said  a  foolish  thing.  So  invincible  was  his 
gravity  that  he  was  never  known  to  laugh  or 


202  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

even  to  smile  through  the  whole  course  of  a  long 
and  prosperous  life.  Nay,  if  a  joke  were  uttered 
in  his  presence,  that  set  light-minded  hearers  in 
a  roar,  it  was  observed  to  throw  him  into  a  stato 
of  perplexity.  Sometimes  he  would  deign  to  in 
quire  into  the  matter,  and  when,  after  much  ex 
planation,  the  joke  was  made  as  plain  as  a  pike 
staff,  he  would  continue  to  smoke  his  pipe  in 
silence,  and-  at  length,  knocking  out  the  ashes, 
would  exclaim,  '  Well !  I  see  nothing  in  all  that 
to  laugh  about.' 

"  With  all  his  reflective  habits,  he  never  mado 
up  his  mind  on  a  subject.  His  adherents  ac 
counted  for  this  by  the  astonishing  magnitude  of 
his  ideas.  He  conceived  every  subject  on  so 
grand  a  scale  that  he  had  not  room  in  his  head 
to  turn  it  over  and  examine  both  sides  of  it. 
Certain  it  is,  that,  if  any  matter  were  propounded 
to  him  on  which  ordinary  mortals  would  rashly 
determine  at  first  glance,  he  would  put  on  a 
vague,  mysterious  look,  shake  his  capacious 
head,  smoke  some  time  in  profound  silence,  and 
at  length  observe,  that  '  he  had  his  doubts  about 
the  matter ' ;  which  gained  him  the  reputation 
of  a  man  slow  of  belief  and  not  easily  imposed 
upon.  What  is  more,  it  has  gained  him  a  lasting 
name  ;  for  to  this  habit  of  the  mind  has  been 
attributed  his  surname  of  Twiller ;  which  is  said 
to  be  a  corruption  of  the  original  Tvvijfler,  or, 
in  plain  English,  Doubter. 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         203 

"  The  person  of  this  illustrious  old  gentleman 
was  formed  and  proportioned,  as  though  it  had 
been    moulded   by   the  hands  of    some  cunning 
Dutch  statuary,  as  a  model  of  majesty  and  lordly 
grandeur.     He  was  exactly  five  feet  six  inches 
in  height,  and  six  feet  five  inches  in  circumfer 
ence.     His  head  was  a  perfect  sphere,   and  of 
such  stupendous  dimensions,  that  dame  Nature, 
with  all  her  sex's  ingenuity,  would  have  been 
puzzled  to  construct  a  neck  capable  of  supporting 
it;  wherefore  she   wisely  declined  the  attempt, 
and  settled  it  firmly  on  the  top  of  his  backbone, 
just  between  the  shoulders.      His  body  was  ob 
long  and  particularly  capacious  at  bottom  ;  which 
was  wisely  ordered  by  Providence,  seeing  that 
he    was  a  man  of   sedentary  habits,   and  very 
averse  to  the  idle  labor  of  walking.     His  legs 
were  short,  but  sturdy  in  proportion  to  the  weight 
they  had  to  sustain  ;  so  that  when  erect  he  had 
not  a  little  the  appearance  of  a  beer-barrel  on 
skids.     His  face,  that  infallible  index  of  the  mind, 
presented  a  vast  expanse,  unfurrowed  by  any  of 
those  lines  and  angles  which  disfigure  the  human 
countenance    with   what   is    termed    expression. 
Two    small   gray   eyes  twinkled   feebly    in    the 
midst,  like  two  stars  of  lesser  magnitude  in  a 
hazy  firmament,  and  his  full-fed  cheeks,   which 
seemed  to  have  taken   toll  of  everything   that 
went  into  his  mouth,  were  curiously  mo.ttled  and 
streaked  with  dusky  red,  like  a  spitzenberg  apple. 


204  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

"  His  habits  were  as  regular  as  his  person. 
He  daily  took  his  four  stated  meals,  appropri 
ating  exactly  an  hour  to  each  ;  he  smoked  and 
doubted  eight  hours,  and  he  slept  the  remaining 
twelve  of  the  four-and-twenty.  Such  was  the 
renowned  Wouter  Van  Twiller,  —  a  true  philos 
opher,  for  his  mind  was  either  elevated  above,  or 
tranquilly  settled  below,  the  cares  and  perplexities 
of  this  world.  He  had  lived  in  it  for  years,  with 
out  feeling  the  least  curiosity  to  know  whether 
the  sun  revolved  round  it,  or  it  round  the  sun ; 
and  he  had  watched,  for  at  least  half  a  century, 
the  smoke  curling  from  his  pipe  to  the  ceiling, 
without  once  troubling  his  head  with  any  of 
those  numerous  theories  by  which  a  philosopher 
would  have  perplexed  his  brain,  in  accounting 
for  its  rising  above  the  surrounding  atmosphere. 

"  In  his  council  he  presided  with  great  state 
and  solemnity.  He  sat  in  a  huge  chair  of  solid 
oak,  hewn  in  the  celebrated  forest  of  the  Hague, 
fabricated  by  an  experienced  timmerman  of 
Amsterdam,  and  curiously  carved  about  the 
arms  and  feet  into  exact  imitations  of  gigantic 
eagle's  claws.  Instead  of  a  sceptre,  he  swayed 
a  long  Turkish  pipe,  wrought  with  jasmin  and 
amber,  which  had  been  presented  to  a  stadtholder 
of  Holland  at  the  conclusion  of  a  treaty  with  one 
of  the  petty  Barbary  powers.  In  this  stately 
chair  would  he  sit,  and  this  magnificent  pipe 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         205 

would  he  smoke,  shaking  his  right  knee  with  a 
constant  motion,  and  fixing  his  eye  for  hours  to 
gether  upon  a  little  print  of  Amsterdam,  which 
hung  in  a  black  frame  against  the  opposite  wall 
of  the  council-chamber.  Nay,  it  has  even  been 
said,  that  when  any  deliberation  of  extraordinary 
length  and  intricacy  was  on  the  carpet,  the  re 
nowned  Wouter  would  shut  his  eyes  for  full  two 
hours  at  a  time,  that  he  nrght  not  be  disturbed 
by  external  objects ;  and  at  such  times  the  inter 
nal  commotion  of  his  mind  was  evinced  by  cer 
tain  regular  guttural  sounds,  which  his  admirers 
declared  were  merely  the  noise  of  conflict,  made 
by  his  contending  doubts  and  opinions.  .  .  . 

"  I  have  been  the  more  anxious  to  delineate 
fully  the  person  and  habits  of  Wouter  Van  Twil- 
ler,  from  the  consideration  that  he  was  not  only 
the  first  but  also  the  best  governor  that  ever  pre 
sided  over  this  ancient  and  respectable  province  ; 
and  so  tranquil  and  benevolent  was  his  reign, 
that  I  do  not  find  throughout  the  whole  of  it  a 
single  instance  of  any  offender  being  brought  to 
punishment,  —  a  most  indubitable  sign  of  a  mer 
ciful  governor,  and  a  case  unparalleled,  excepting 
in  the  reign  of  the  illustrious  King  Log,  from 
whom,  it  is  hinted,  the  renowned  Van  Twiller 
was  a  lineal  descendant. 

"  The  very  outset  of  the  career  of  this  excel 
lent  magistrate  was  distinguished  by  an  example 


206  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

of  legal  acumen  that  gave  flattering  presage  of 
a  wise  and  equitable  administration.  The  morn 
ing  after  he  had  been  installed  in  office,  and  at 
the  moment  that  he  was  making  his  breakfast 
from  a  prodigious  earthen  dish,  filled  with  milk 
and  Indian  pudding,  he  was  interrupted  by  the 
appearance  of  Wandle  Schoonhoven,  a  very  im 
portant  old  burgher  of  New  Amsterdam,  who  com 
plained  bitterly  of  one  Barent  Bleecker,  inas 
much  as  he  refused  to  come  to  a  settlement  of 
accounts,  seeing  that  there  was  a  heavy  balance 
in  favor  of  the  said  Wandle.  Governor  Van 
T wilier,  as  I  have  already  observed,  was  a  man 
of  few  words  ;  he  was  likewise  a  mortal  enemy 
to  multiplying  writings  —  or  being  disturbed  at 
his  breakfast.  Having  listened  attentively  to 
the  statement  of  Wandle  Schoonhoven,  giving 
an  occasional  grunt,  as  he  shoveled  a  spoonful 
of  Indian  pudding  into  his  mouth,  —  either  as  a 
sign  that  he  relished  the  dish,  or  comprehended 
the  story,  —  he  called  unto  him  his  constable, 
and  pulling  out  of  his  breeches-pocket  a  huge 
jack-knife,  dispatched  it  after  the  defendant  as  a 
summons,  accompanied  by  his  tobacco-box  as  a 
warrant. 

"  This  summary  process  was  as  effectual  in 
those  simple  days  as  was  the  seal-ring  of  the 
great  Haroun  Alraschid  among  the  true  believers. 
The  two  parties  being  confronted  before  him, 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC    WORKS.          207 

each  produced  a  book  of  accounts,  written  in  a 
language  and  character  that  would  have  puzzled 
any  but  a  High-Dutch  commentator,  or  a  learned 
decipherer  of  Egyptian  obelisks.  The  sage  Won. 
ter  took  them  one  after  the  other,  and  having 
poised  them  in  his  hands,  and  attentively  counted 
over  the  number  of  leaves,  fell  straightway  into 
a  very  great  doubt,  and  smoked  for  half  an  hour 
without  saying  a  word  ;  at  length,  laying  his 
finger  beside  his  nose,  and  shutting  his  eyes  for 
a  moment,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  just 
caught  a  subtle  idea  by  the  tail,  he  slowly  took 
his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  puffed  forth  a  column 
of  tobacco-smoke,  and  with  marvelous  gravity 
and  solemnity  pronounced,  that,  having  carefully 
counted  over  the  leaves  and  weighed  the  books, 
it  was  found,  that  one  was  just  as  thick  and  as 
heavy  as  the  other :  therefore,  it  was  the  final 
opinion  of  the  court  that  the  accounts  were 
equally  balanced  :  therefore,  Wandle  should  give 
Barent  a  receipt,  and  Barent  should  give  Wan- 
die  a  receipt,  and  the  constable  should  pay  the 
costs. 

"  This  decision,  being  straightway  made 
known,  diffused  general  joy  throughout  New 
Amsterdam,  for  the  people  immediately  per 
ceived  that  they  had  a  very  wise  and  equitable 
magistrate  to  rule  over  them.  But  its  happiest 
effect  was,  that  not  another  lawsuit  took  place 


208  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

throughout  the  whole  of  his  administration  ;  and 
the  office  of  constable  fell  into  such  decay,  that 
there  was  not  one  of  those  losel  scouts  known  in 
the  province  for  many  years.  I  am  the  more 
particular  in  dwelling  on  this  transaction,  not 
only  because  I  deem  it  one  of  the  most  sage  and 
righteous  judgments  on  record,  and  well  worthy 
the  attention  of  modern  magistrates,  but  because 
it  was  a  miraculous  event  in  the  history  of  the 
renowned  Wouter  —  being  the  only  time  he  was 
ever  known  to  come  to  a  decision  in  the  whole 
course  of  his  life." 

This  peaceful  age  ended  with  the  acces 
sion  of  William  the  Testy,  and  the  advent 
of  the  enterprising  Yankees.  During  the 
reigns  of  William  Kieft  and  Peter  Stuyve- 
sant,  between  the  Yankees  of  the  Connecti 
cut  and  the  Swedes  of  the  Delaware,  the 
Dutch  community  knew  no  repose,  and  the 
"  History  "  is  little  more  than  a  series  of 
exhausting  sieges  and  desperate  battles, 
which  would  have  been  as  heroic  as  any  in 
history  if  they  had  been  attended  with  loss 
of  life.  The  forces  that  were  gathered  by 
Peter  Stuyvesant  for  the  expedition  to 
avenge  upon  the  Swedes  the  defeat  at  Fort 
Casimir,  and  their  appearance  on  the  march, 


THE   CHARACTERISTIC    WORKS.         209 

give  some  notion  of  the  military  prowess  of 
the  Dutch.  Their  appearance,  when  they 
were  encamped  on  the  Bowling  Green,  re 
calls  the  Homeric  age :  — 

"  In  the  centre,  then,  was  pitched  the  tent  of 
the  men  of  battle  of  the  Manhattoes,  who,  being 
the  inmates  of  the  metropolis,  composed  the  life 
guards  of  the  governor.  These  were  commanded 
by  the  valiant  Stoffel  Brinkerhoof,  who,  whilom 
had  acquired  such  immortal  fame  at  Oyster  Bay  ; 
they  displayed  as  a  standard  a  beaver  rampant 
on  a  field  of  orange,  being  the  arms  of  the  prov 
ince,  and  denoting  the  persevering  industry  and 
the  amphibious  origin  of  the  Nederlands. 

"  On  their  right  hand  might  be  seen  the  vassals 
of  that  renowned  Mynheer,  Michael  Paw,  who 
lorded  it  over  the  fair  regions  of  ancient  Pavonia, 
and  the  lands  away  south  even  unto  the  Nave- 
sink  mountains,  and  was  moreover  patroon  of 
Gibbet  Island.  His  standard  was  borne  by  his 
trusty  squire,  Cornelius  Van  Vorst ;  consisting  of 
a  huge  oyster  recumbent  upon  a  sea-green  field  ; 
being  the  armorial  bearings  of  his  favorite  me 
tropolis,  Communipaw.  He  brought  to  the  camp 
a  stout  force  of  warriors,  heavily  armed,  being 
each  clad  in  ten  pair  of  linsey-woolsey  breeches, 
and  overshadowed  by  broad-brimmed  beavers, 
with  short  pipes  twisted  in  their  hat-bands. 
14 


210  WASH  TNG  TON  IE  V  ING. 

These  were  the  men  who  vegetated  in  the  mud 
along  the  shores  of  Pavonia,  being  of  the  race 
of  genuine  copperheads,  and  were  fabled  to  have 
sprung  from  oysters. 

"  At  a  little  distance  was  encamped  the  tribe 
of  warriors  who  came  from  the  neighborhood  of 
Hell-gate.  These  were  commanded  by  the  Suy 
Dams,  and  the  Van  Dams,  —  incontinent  hard 
swearers,  as  their  names  betoken.  They  were 
terrible  looking  fellows,  clad  in  broad-skirted  gab 
erdines,  of  that  curious  colored  cloth  called  thun 
der  and  lightning,  —  and  bore  as  a  standard  three 
devil's  darning-needles,  volant,  in  a  flame-colored 
field. 

"  Hard  by  was  the  tent  of  the  men  of  battle 
from  the  marshy  borders  of  the  Waale-Boght 
and  the  country  thereabouts.  These  were  of  a 
sour  aspect,  by  reason  that  they  lived  on  crabs, 
which  abound  in  these  parts.  They  were  the 
first  institutors  of  that  honorable  order  of  knight 
hood  called  Fly-market  shirks,  and,  if  tradition 
speak  true,  did  likewise  introduce  the  far-famed 
step  in  dancing  called  '  double  trouble.'  They 
were  commanded  by  the  fearless  Jacobus  Varra 
Vanger,  —  and  had,  moreover,  a  jolly  band  of 
Breuckelen  ferry-men,  who  performed  a  brave 
concerto  on  conch  shells. 

"  But  I  refrain  from  pursuing  this  minute  de 
scription,  which  goes  on  to  describe  the  warriors 


THE   CHARACTERISTIC    WORKS.         211 


of  Bloemen-dael,  and  Weehawk,  and  Hoboken, 
and  sundry  other  places,  well  known  in  history 
and  song  ;  for  now  do  the  notes  of  martial  music 
alarm  the  people  of  New  Amsterdam,  sounding 
afar  from  beyond  the  walls  of  the  city.  But  this 
alarm  was  in  a  little  while  relieved,  for  lo !  from 
the  midst  of  a  vast  cloud  of  dust,  they  recognized 
the  brimstone-colored  breeches  and  splendid  sil 
ver  leg  of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  glaring  in  the  sun 
beams  ;  and  beheld  him  approaching  at  the  head 
of  a  formidable  army,  which  he  had  mustered 
along  the  banks  of  the  Hudson.  And  here  the 
excellent  but  anonymous  writer  of  the  Stuyve 
sant  manuscript  breaks  out  into  a  brave  and 
glorious  description  of  the  forces,  as  they  defiled 
through  the  principal  gate  of  the  city,  that  stood 
by  the  head  of  Wall  Street. 

"  First  of  all  came  the  Van  Bummels,  who  in 
habit  the  pleasant  borders  of  the  Bronx  :  these 
were  short  fat  men,  wearing  exceeding  large 
trunk-breeches,  and  were  renowned  for  feats  of 
the  trencher.  They  were  the  first  inventors  of 
suppawn,  or  mush  and  milk.  —  Close  in  their  rear 
marched  the  Van  Vlotens,  of  Kaatskill,  horrible 
quaffers  of  new  cider,  and  arrant  braggarts  in 
their  liquor.  —  After  them  came  the  Van  Pelts 
of  Groodt  Esopus,  dexterous  horsemen,  mounted 
upon  goodly  switch-tailed  steeds  of  the  Esopus 
breed.  These  were  mighty  hunters  of  minks  and 


212  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

musk-rats,  whence  came  the  word  Peltry.  —  Then 
the  Van  Nests  of  Kinderhoeck,  valiant  robbers 
of  birds'-nests,  as  their  name  denotes.  To  these, 
if  report  may  be  believed,  are  we  indebted  for 
the  invention  of  slap-jacks,  or  buckwheat-cakes. 

—  Then  the  Van  Higginbottoms,  of  Wapping's 
creek.      These    came   armed  with   ferules   and 
birchen  rods,  being  a  race  of  schoolmasters,  who 
first  discovered  the  marvelous  sympathy  between 
the  seat  of  honor  and  the  seat  of  intellect,  —  and 
that  the  shortest  way  to  get  knowledge  into  the 
head  was  to  hammer  it  into  the  bottom.  —  Then 
the  Van  Grolls,  of  Antony's  Nose,  who  carried 
their  liquor  in  fair  round  little  pottles,  by  reason 
they  could  not  bouse  it  out  of  their  canteens, 
having  such  rare  long  noses.  —  Then  the  Gar- 
deniers,  of  Hudson  and  thereabouts,  distinguished 
by  many  triumphant  feats,  such  as  robbing  water 
melon  patches,  smoking  rabbits  out  of  their  holes, 
and  the  like,  and  by  being  great  lovers  of  roasted 
pigs'  tails.     These  were  the  ancestors  of  the  re 
nowned  congressman  of  that  name.  —  Then  the 
Van  Hoesens,  of  Sing-Sing,  great  choristers  and 
players  upon  the  jews-harp.    These  marched  two 
and  two,  singing  the  great  song  of  St.  Nicholas. 

—  Then  the   Couenhovens,  of    Sleepy    Hollow. 
These  gave  birth  to  a  jolly  race  of  publicans, 
who  first  discovered  the  magic  artifice  of  conjur 
ing  a  quart  of  wine  into  a  pint  bottle.  —  Then 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         213 

the  Van  Kortlandts,  who  lived  on  the  wild  banks 
of  the  Croton,  and  were  great  killers  of  wild 
ducks,  being  much  spoken  of  for  their  skill  in 
shooting  with  the  long  bow.  —  Then  the  Van 
Buuschotens,  of  Njack  and  Kakiat,  who  were 
the  first  that  did  ever  kick  with  the  left  foot. 
They  were  gallant  bushwhackers  and  hunters  of 
raccoons  by  moonlight.  — Then  the  Van  Winkles, 
of  Haerlem,  potent  suckers  of  eggs,  and  noted 
for  running  of  horses,  and  running  up  of  scores 
at  taverns.  They  were  the  first  that  ever  winked 
with  both  eyes  at  once.  —  Lastly  came  the 
KNICKERBOCKERS,  of  the  great  town  of  Scagh- 
tikoke,  where  the  folk  lay  stones  upon  the  houses 
in  windy  weather,  lest  they  should  be  blown 
away.  These  derive  their  name,  as  some  say, 
from  Knicker,  to  shake,  and  Beker,  a  goblet,  indi 
cating  thereby  that  they  were  sturdy  toss-pots  of 
yore  ;  but,  in  truth,  it  was  derived  from  Knicker, 
to  nod,  and  Boeken,  books  :  plainly  meaning  that 
they  were  great  nodders  or  dozers  over  books. 
From  them  did  descend  the  writer  of  this  his 
tory." 

In  the  midst  of  Irving's  mock-heroics, 
he  always  preserves  a  substratum  of  good 
sense.  An  instance  of  this  is  the  address 
of  the  redoubtable  wooden-legged  governor, 
on  his  departure  at  the  head  of  his  war 
riors  to  chastise  the  Swedes :  — 


214  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

"  Certain  it  is,  not  an  old  woman  in  New  Am 
sterdam  but  considered  Peter  Stuyvesant  as  a 
tower  of  strength,  and  rested  satisfied  that  the 
public  welfare  was  secure  so  long  as  he  was  in 
the  city.  It  is  not  surprising,  then,  that  they 
looked  upon  his  departure  as  a  sore  affliction. 
With  heavy  hearts  they  draggled  at  the  heels  of 
his  troop,  as  they  marched  down  to  the  river-side 
to  embark.  The  governor,  from  the  stern  of  his 
schooner,  gave  a  short  but  truly  patriarchal  ad 
dress  to  his  citizens,  wherein  he  recommended 
them  to  comport  like  loyal  and  peaceable  sub 
jects,  —  to  go  to  church  regularly  on  Sundays, 
and  to  mind  their  business  all  the  week  besides. 
That  the  women  should  be  dutiful  and  affection 
ate  to  their  husbands,  —  looking  after  nobody's 
concerns  but  their  own,  —  eschewing  all  gossip- 
ings  and  morning  gaddings,  — and  carrying  short 
tongues  and  long  petticoats.  '  That  the  men 
should  abstain  from  intermeddling  in  public  con 
cerns,  intrusting  the  cares  of  government  to  the 
officers  appointed  to  support  them,  —  staying  at 
home,  like  good  citizens,  making  money  for  them 
selves,  and  getting  children  for  the  benefit  of  their 
country.  That  the  burgomasters  should  look  well 
to  the  public  interest,  —  not  oppressing  the  poor 
nor  indulging  the  rich,  —  not  tasking  their  inge 
nuity  to  devise  new  laws,  but  faithfully  enforcing 
those  which  were  already  made,  —  rather  bend- 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         215 

ing  their  attention  to  prevent  evil  than  to  punish 
it ;  ever  recollecting  that  civil  magistrates  should 
consider  themselves  more  as  guardians  of  public 
morals  than  rat-catchers  employed  to  entrap  pub 
lic  delinquents.  Finally,  he  exhorted  them,  one 
and  all,  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  to  conduct 
themselves  as  well  as  they  could,  assuring  them 
that  if  they  faithfully  and  conscientiously  com 
plied  with  this  golden  rule,  there  was  no  danger 
but  that  they  would  all  conduct  themselves  well 
enough.  This  done,  he  gave  them  a  paternal 
benediction,  the  sturdy  Antony  sounded  a  most 
loving  farewell  with  his  trumpet,  the  jolly  crews 
put  up  a  shout  of  triumph,  and  the  invincible 
armada  swept  off  proudly  down  the  bay." 

The  account  of  an  expedition  against 
Fort  Christina  deserves  to  be  quoted  in 
full,  for  it  is  an  example  of  what  war  might 
be,  full  of  excitement,  and  exercise,  and 
heroism,  without  danger  to  life.  We  take 
up  the  narrative  at  the  moment  when  the 
Dutch  host, — 

"  Brimful  of  wrath  and  cabbage,"  — 

and  excited  by  the  eloquence  of  the  mighty 
Peter,  lighted  their  pipes,  and  charged  upon 
the  fort. 

"  The  Swedish  garrison,  ordered  by  the  cun- 


216  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

ning  Risingh  not  to  fire  until  they  could  dis 
tinguish  the  whites  of  their  assailants'  eyes, 
stood  in  horrid  silence  on  the  covert- way,  until 
the  eager  Dutchmen  had  ascended  the  glacis. 
Then  did  they  pour  into  them  such  a  tremen 
dous  volley,  that  the  very  hills  quaked  around, 
and  were  terrified  even  unto  an  incontinence  of 
water,  insomuch  that  certain  springs  burst  forth 
from  their  sides,  which  continue  to  run  unto  the 
present  day.  Not  a  Dutchman  but  would  have 
bitten  the  dust  beneath  that  dreadful  fire,  had 
not  the  protecting  Minerva  kindly  taken  care 
that  the  Swedes  should,  one  and  all,  observe 
their  usual  custom  of  shutting  their  eyes  and 
turning  away  their  heads  at  the  moment  of  dis 
charge. 

"  The  Swedes  followed  up  their  fire  by  leaping 
the  counterscarp,  and  falling  tooth  and  nail  upon 
the  foe  with  curious  outcries.  And  now  might 
be  seen  prodigies  of  valor,  unmatched  in  history 
or  song.  Here  was  the  sturdy  Stoffel  Brinker- 
hoff  brandishing  his  quarter-staff,  like  the  giant 
Blanderon  his  oak-tree  (for  he  scorned  to  carry 
any  other  weapon),  and  drumming  a  horrific  tune 
upon  the  hard  heads  of  the  Swedish  soldiery. 
There  were  the  Van  Kortlandts,  posted  at  a  dis 
tance,  like  the  Locriau  archers  of  yore,  and  ply 
ing  it  most  potently  with  the  long-bow,  for  which 
they  were  so  justly  renowned.  On  a  rising  knoll 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC    WORKS.         217 

were  gathered  the  valiant  men  of  Sing-Sing,  as 
sisting  marvelously  in  the  fight  by  chanting  the 
great  song  of  St.  Nicholas  ;  but  as  to  the  Gar- 
deniers  of  Hudson,  they  were  absent  on  a  ma 
rauding  party,  laying  waste  the  neighboring 
water-melon  patches. 

"  In  a  different  part  of  the  field  were  the  Van 
Grolls  of  Antony's  Nose,  struggling  to  get  to 
the  thickest  of  the  fight,  but  horribly  perplexed 
in  a  defile  between  two  hills,  by  reason  of  the 
length  of  their  noses.  So  also  the  Van  Bunscho- 
tens  of  Nyack  and  Kakiat,  so  renowned  for  kick 
ing  with  the  left  foot,  were  brought  to  a  stand  for 
want  of  wind,  in  consequence  of  the  hearty  din 
ner  they  had  eaten,  and  would  have  been  put  to 
utter  rout  but  for  the  arrival  of  a  gallant  corps 
of  voltigeurs,  composed  of  the  Hoppers,  who  ad 
vanced  nimbly  to  their  assistance  on  one  foot. 
Nor  must  I  omit  to  mention  the  valiant  achieve 
ments  of  Antony  Van  Corlear,  who,  for  a  good 
quarter  of  an  hour,  waged  stubborn  fight  with  a 
little  pursy  Swedish  drummer,  whose  hide  he 
drummed  most  magnificently,  and  whom  he 
would  infallibly  have  annihilated  on  the  spot,  but 
that  he  had  come  into  the  battle  with  no  other 
weapon  but  his  trumpet. 

"  But  now  the  combat  thickened.  On  came 
the  mighty  Jacobus  Varra  Vanger  and  the  fight 
ing-men  of  the  Wallabout ;  after  them  thundered 


218  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

the  Van  Pelts  of  Esopus,  together  with  the  Van 
Rippers  and  the  Van  Brunts,  bearing  down  all 
before  them  ;  then  the  Suy  Dams,  and  the  Van 
Dams,  pressing  forward  with  many  a  blustering 
oath,  at  the  head  of  the  warriors  of  Hell -gate, 
clad  in  their  thunder-and-lightning  gaberdines  ; 
and  lastly,  the  standard-bearers  and  body-guard 
of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  bearing  the  great  beaver  of 
the  Manhattoes. 

"  And  now  commenced  the  horrid  din,  the  des 
perate  struggle,  the  maddening  ferocity,  the 
frantic  desperation,  the  confusion  and  self-aban 
donment  of  war.  Dutchman  and  Swede  com 
mingled,  tugged,  panted,  and  blowed.  The 
heavens  were  darkened  with  a  tempest  of  mis 
sives.  Bang  !  went  the  guns ;  whack  !  went  the 
broad-swords  ;  thump  !  went  the  cudgels  ;  crash  ! 
went  the  musket-stocks  ;  blows,  kicks,  cuffs, 
scratches,  black  eyes  and  bloody  noses  swelling 
the  horrors  of  the  scene !  Thick  thwack,  cut 
and  hack,  helter-skelter,  higgledy-piggledy,  hurly- 
burly,  head-over-heels,  rough-and-tumble  !  Dun- 
der  and  blixum !  swore  the  Dutchmen ;  splitter 
and  splutter !  cried  the  Swedes.  Storm  the 
works!  shouted  Hardkoppig  Peter.  Fire  the 
mine  !  roared  stout  Risingh.  Tanta-rar-ra-ra ! 
twanged  the  trumpet  of  Antony  Van  Corlear ; 
—  until  all  voice  and  sound  became  unintelligi 
ble,  —  grunts  of  pain,  yells  of  fury,  and  shouts 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC    WORKS.         219 

of  triumph  mingling  in  one  hideous  clamor.  The 
earth  shook  as  if  struck  with  a  paralytic  stroke  ; 
trees  shrunk  aghast,  and  withered  at  the  sight ; 
rocks  burrowed  in  the  ground  like  rabbits  ;  and 
even  Christina  Creek  turned  from  its  course  and 
ran  up  a  hill  in  breathless  terror ! 

"  Long  hung  the  contest  doubtful ;  for  though 
a  heavy  shower  of  rain,  sent  by  the  "  cloud-com 
pelling  Jove,"  in  some  measure  cooled  their  ardor, 
as  doth  a  bucket  of  water  thrown  on  a  group 
of  fighting  mastiffs,  yet  did  they  but  pause  for 
a  moment,  to  return  with  tenfold  fury  to  the 
charge.  Just  at  this  juncture  a  vast  and  dense 
column  of  smoke  was  seen  slowly  rolling  toward 
the  scene  of  battle.  The  combatants  paused  for 
a  moment,  gazing  in  mute  astonishment,  until  the 
wind,  dispelling  the  murky  cloud,  revealed  the 
flaunting  banner  of  Michael  Paw,  the  Patroon  of 
Communipaw.  That  valiant  chieftain  came  fear 
lessly  on  at  the  head  of  a  phalanx  of  oyster-fed 
Pavonians  and  a  corps  de  reserve  of  the  Van 
Arsdales  and  Van  Bummels,  who  had  remained 
behind  to  digest  the  enormous  dinner  they  had 
eaten.  These  now  trudged  manfully  forward, 
smoking  their  pipes  with  outrageous  vigor,  so  as 
to  raise  the  awful  cloud  that  has  been  mentioned, 
but  marching  exceedingly  slow,  being  short  of 
leg,  and  of  great  rotundity  in  the  belt. 

"  And  now  the  deities  who  watched  over  the 


220  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

fortunes  of  the  Nederlanders  having  unthinkingly 
left  the  field,  and  stepped  into  a  neighboring 
tavern  to  refresh  themselves  with  a  pot  of  beer, 
a  direful  catastrophe  had  wellnigh  ensued.  Scarce 
had  the  myrmidons  of  Michael  Paw  attained  the 
front  of  battle,  when  the  Swedes,  instructed  by 
the  cunning  Risingh,  leveled  a  shower  of  blows 
full  at  their  tobacco-pipes.  Astounded  at  this 
assault,  and  dismayed  at  the  havoc  of  their  pipes, 
these  ponderous  warriors  gave  way,  and  like  a 
drove  of  frightened  elephants  broke  through  the 
ranks  of  their  own  army.  The  little  Hoppers 
were  borne  down  in  the  surge ;  the  sacred  ban 
ner  emblazoned  with  the  gigantic  oyster  of  Com- 
munipaw  was  trampled  in  the  dirt ;  on  blundered 
and  thundered  the  heavy-sterned  fugitives,  the 
Swedes  pressing  on  their  rear  and  applying  their 
feet  a  parte  paste  of  the  Van  Arsdales  and  the 
Van  Bummels  with  a  vigor  that  prodigiously 
accelerated  their  movements ;  nor  did  the  re 
nowned  Michael  Paw  himself  fail  to  receive 
divers  grievous  and  dishonorable  visitations  of 
shoe-leather. 

"  But  what,  oh  Muse !  was  the  rage  of  Peter 
Stuyvesant.  when  from  afar  he  saw  his  army  giv 
ing  way  !  In  the  transports  of  his  wrath  he 
sent  forth  a  roar,  enough  to  shake  the  very  hills. 
The  men  of  the  Manhattoes  plucked  up  new 
courage  at  the  sound,  or,  rather,  they  rallied  at 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         221 

the  voice  of  their  leader,  of  whom  they  stood 
more  in  awe  than  of  all  the  Swedes  in  Christen 
dom.     Without  waiting  for  their  aid,  the  daring 
Peter  dashed,  sword  in  hand,  into  the  thickest  of 
the   foe.      Then   might   be   seen   achievements 
worthy  of  the  days  of  the  giants.    Wherever  he 
went  the  enemy  shrank  before  him  ;  the  Swedes 
fled  to  right  and  left,  or  were  driven,  like  dogs, 
into  their  own  ditch  ;  but  as  he  pushed  forward, 
singly  with  headlong  courage,  the  foe  closed  be 
hind  and  hung  upon  his  rear.    One  aimed  a  blow 
full  at  his  heart ;  but  the  protecting  power  which 
watches  over  the  great  and  good  turned  aside 
the  hostile  blade  and  directed  it  to  a  side-pocket, 
where  reposed  an  enormous  iron  tobacco-box, 
endowed,  like  the  shield  of  Achilles,  with  super 
natural  powers,  doubtless  from  bearing  the  por 
trait  of  the  blessed  St.  Nicholas.    Peter  Stuyve- 
sant  turned  like  an  angry  bear  upon  the  foe,  and 
seizing  him,  as  he  fled,  by  an  immeasurable  queue, 
'  Ah,  whoreson   caterpillar,'   roared  he,  '  here  's 
what  shall  make  worms'  meat  of  thee ! '  so  say 
ing  he  whirled  his  sword  and  dealt  a  blow  that 
would  have  decapitated  the  varlet,  but  that  the 
pitying  steel  struck  short  and  shaved  the  queue 
forever  from  his  crown.      At   this  moment  an 
arquebusier  leveled  his  piece  from  a  neighboring 
mound,  with  deadly  aim  ;  but  the  watchful  Mi 
nerva,  who  had  just  stopped  to  tie  up  her  garter, 


222  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

seeing  the  peril  of  her  favorite  hero,  sent  old 
Boreas  with  his  bellows,  who,  as  the  match  de 
scended  to  the  pan,  gave  a  blast  that  blew  the 
priming  from  the  touch-hole. 

"  Thus  waged  the  fight,  when  the  stout  Risingh, 
surveying  the  field  from  the  top  of  a  little  ravelin, 
perceived  his  troops  banged,  beaten,  and  kicked 
by  the  invincible  Peter.  Drawing  his  falchion, 
and  uttering  a  thousand  anathemas,  he  strode 
down  to  the  scene  of  combat  with  some  such 
thundering  strides  as  Jupiter  is  said  by  Hesiod 
to  have  taken  when  he  strode  down  the  spheres 
to  hurl  his  thunder-bolts  at  the  Titans. 

"  When  the  rival  heroes  came  face  to  face, 
each  made  a  prodigious  start  in  the  style  of  a 
veteran  stage-champion.  Then  did  they  regard 
each  other  for  a  moment  with  the  bitter  aspect  of 
two  furious  ram-cats  on  the  point  of  a  clapper 
clawing.  Then  did  they  throw  themselves  into 
one  attitude,  then  into  another,  striking  their 
swords  on  the  ground,  first  on  the  right  side,  then 
on  the  left :  at  last  at  it  they  went  with  incredi 
ble  ferocity.  Words  cannot  tell  the  prodigies  of 
strength  and  valor  displayed  in  this  direful  en 
counter,  —  an  encounter  compared  to  which  the 
far-famed  battles  of  Ajax  with  Hector,  of  JEiiieas 
with  Turnus,  Orlando  with  Rodomont,  Guy  of 
Warwick  with  Colbrand  the  Dane,  or  of  that 
renowned  Welsh  knight,  Sir  Owen  of  the  Mount- 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC  WORKS.         223 

airis,  with  the  giant  Guylon,  were  all  gentle 
sports  and  holiday  recreations.  At  length  the 
valiant  Peter,  watching  his  opportunity,  aimed  a 
blow  enough  to  cleave  his  adversary  to  the  very 
chine ;  but  Risingh,  nimbly  raising  his  sword, 
warded  it  off  so  narrowly,  that,  glancing  on  one 
side,  it  shaved  away  a  huge  canteen  in  which  he 
carried  his  liquor,  —  thence  pursuing  its  trench 
ant  course,  it  severed  off  a  deep  coat-pocket, 
stored  with  bread  and  cheese,  —  which  provant, 
rolling  among  the  armies,  occasioned  a  fearful 
scrambling  between  the  Swedes  and  Dutchmen, 
and  made  the  general  battle  to  wax  more  furious 
than  ever. 

"  Enraged  to  see  his  military  stores  laid  wastet 
the  stout  Risingh,  collecting  all  his  forces,  aimed 
a  mighty  blow  full  at  the  hero's  crest.  In  vain 
did  his  fierce  little  cocked  hat  oppose  its  course. 
The  biting  steel  clove  through  the  stubborn  ram 
beaver,  and  would  have  cracked  the  crown  of 
any  one  not  endowed  with  supernatural  hardness 
of  head;  but  the  brittle  weapon  shivered  in 
pieces  on  the  skull  of  Hardkoppig  Piet,  shedding 
a  thousand  sparks,  like  beams  of  glory,  round 
his  grizzly  visage. 

"  The  good  Peter  reeled  with  the  blow,  and 
turning  up  his  eyes  beheld  a  thousand  suns,  be 
sides  moons  and  stars,  dancing  about  the  firma 
ment  ;  at  length,  missing  his  footing,  by  reason 


224  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

of  his  wooden  leg.  down  he  came  on  his  seat  of 
honor  with  a  crash  which  shook  the  surrounding 
hills,  and  might  have  wrecked  his  frame,  had  he 
not  been  received  into  a  cushion  softer  than  vel 
vet,  which  Providence,  or  Minerva,  or  St.  Nicho 
las,  or  some  cow,  had  benevolently  prepared  for 
his  reception. 

"  The  furious  Risingh,  in  despite  of  the  maxim, 
cherished  by  all  true  knights,  that  'fair  play 
is  a  jewel,'  hastened  to  take  advantage  of  the 
hero's  fall ;  but,  as  he  stooped  to  give  a  fatal 
blow,  Peter  Stuyvesant  dealt  him  a  thwack  over 
the  sconce  with  his  wooden  leg,  which  set  a 
chime  of  bells  ringing  triple  bob-majors  in  his 
cerebellum.  The  bewildered  Swede  staggered 
with  the  blow,  and  the  wary  Peter  seizing  a 
pocket-pistol,  which  lay  hard  by,  discharged  it 
full  at  the  head  of  the  reeling  Risingh.  Let  not 
my  reader  mistake ;  it  was  not  a  murderous 
weapon  loaded  with  powder  and  ball,  but  a  little 
sturdy  stone  pottle  charged  to  the  muzzle  with  a 
double  dram  of  true  Dutch  courage,  which  the 
knowing  Antony  Van  Corlear  carried  about  him 
by  way  of  replenishing  his  valor,  and  which  had 
dropped  from  his  wallet  during  his  furious  en 
counter  with  the  drummer.  The  hideous  weapon 
sang  through  the  air,  and  true  to  its  course  as 
was  the  fragment  of  a  rock  discharged  at  Hector 
by  bully  Ajax,  encountered  the  head  of  the  gigan 
tic  Swede  with  matchless  violence. 


THE  CHAR ACT 'ERISTIC    WORKS.        225 

"  This  heaven-directed  blow  decided  the  battle. 
The  ponderous  pericranium  of  General  Jan  Ris- 
ingh  sank  upon  his  breast ;  his  knees  tottered 
under  him ;  a  deathlike  torpor  seized  upon  his 
frame,  and  he  tumbled  to  the  earth  with  such 
violence  that  old  Pluto  started  with  affright,  lest 
he  should  have  broken  through  the  roof  of  his 
infernal  palace. 

"  His  fall  was  the  signal  of  defeat  and  victory  : 
the  Swedes  gave  way,  the  Dutch  pressed  for 
ward  ;  the  former  took  to  their  heels,  the  latter 
hotly  pursued.  Some  entered  with  them,  pell- 
mell,  through  the  sally-port ;  others  stormed  the 
bastion,  and  others  scrambled  over  the  curtain. 
Thus  in  a  little  while  the  fortress  of  Fort  Chris 
tina,  which,  like  another  Troy,  had  stood  a  siege 
of  full  ten  hours,  was  carried  by  assault,  with 
out  the  loss  of  a  single  man  on  either  side.  Vic 
tory,  in  the  likeness  of  a  gigantic  ox-fly,  sat 
perched  upon  the  cocked  hat  of  the  gallant  Stuy- 
vesant ;  and  it  was  declared  by  all  the  writers 
whom  he  hired  to  write  the  history  of  his  expe 
dition  that  on  this  memorable  day  he  gained  a 
sufficient  quantity  of  glory  to  immortalize  a  dozen 
of  the  greatest  heroes  in  Christendom  ! " 

In  the  "  Sketch-Book, "  Irving  set  a  kind 
of  fashion  in  narrative  essays,  in  brief  sto 
ries  of  mingled  humor  and  pathos,  which 

15 


226  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

was  followed  for  half  a  century.  He  him 
self  worked  the  same  vein  in  "  Bracebridge 
Hall,"  and  "  Tales  of  a  Traveller."  And 
there  is  no  doubt  that  some  of  the  most 
fascinating  of  the  minor  sketches  of  Charles 
Dickens,  such  as  the  story  of  the  Bagman's 
Uncle,  are  lineal  descendants  of,  if  they 
were  not  suggested  by,  Irving's  "  Adven 
ture  of  My  Uncle,"  and  the  "  Bold  Dra 
goon." 

The  taste  for  the  leisurely  description 
and  reminiscent  essay  of  the  "  Sketch- 
Book  "  does  not  characterize  the  readers  of 
this  generation,  and  we  have  discovered 
that  the  pathos  of  its  elaborated  scenes  is 
somewhat  "  literary."  The  sketches  of 
"  Little  Britain,"  and  "  Westminster  Ab 
bey,"  and,  indeed,  that  of  "  Stratford-on- 
Avon,"  will  for  a  long  time  retain  their 
place  in  selections  of  "  good  reading  ;  "  but 
the  "  Sketch-Book "  is  only  floated,  as  an 
original  work,  by  two  papers,  the  "  Rip  Van 
Winkle  "  and  the  "  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hol 
low;"  that  is  to  say  by  the  use  of  the 
Dutch  material,  and  the  elaboration  of  the 
"  Knickerbocker  Legend,"  which  was  the 
great  achievement  of  Irving's  life.  This 


THE   CHARACTERISTIC    WORKS.         227 

was  broadened  and  deepened  and  illustrated 
by  the  several  stories  of  the  "  Money  Dig 
gers,"  of  "  Wolfert  Webber  "  and  "  Kidd 
the  Pirate,"  in  "  The  Tales  of  a  Traveller," 
and  by  " Dolph  Heyliger "in  " Bracebridge 
Hall."  Irving  was  never  more  successful 
than  in  painting  the  Dutch  manners  and 
habits  of  the  early  time,  and  he  returned 
again  and  again  to  the  task  until  he  not 
only  made  the  shores  of  the  Hudson  and 
the  islands  of  New  York  harbor  and  the 
East  River  classic  ground,  but  until  his 
conception  of  Dutch  life  in  the  New  World 
had  assumed  historical  solidity  and  become 
a  tradition  of  the  highest  poetic  value.  If 
in  the  multiplicity  of  books  and  the  change 
of  taste  the  bulk  of  Irving's  works  shall  go 
out  of  print,  a  volume  made  up  of  his  KnickT 
erbocker  history  and  the  legends  relating  to 
the  region  of  New  York  and  the  Hudson 
would  survive  as  long  as  anything  that  has 
been  produced  in  this  country. 

The  philosophical  student  of  the  origin  of 
New  World  society  may  find  food  for  reflec 
tion  in  the  "  materiality "  of  the  basis  of 
the  civilization  of  New  York.  The  picture 
of  abundance  and  of  enjoyment  of  animal 


228  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

life  is  perhaps  not  overdrawn  in  Irving's 
sketch  of  the  home  of  the  Van  Tassels,  in 
"  The  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow."  It  is 
all  the  extract  we  can  make  room  for  from 
that  careful  study  :  — 

"  Among  the  musical  disciples  who  assembled, 
one  evening  in  each  week,  to  receive  his  instruc 
tions  in  psalmody,  was  Katriua  Van  Tassel,  the 
daughter  and  only  child  of  a  substantial  Dutch 
farmer.  She  was  a  blooming  lass  of  fresh  eigh 
teen  ;  plump  as  a  partridge  ;  ripe  and  melting 
and  rosy-cheeked  as  one  of  her  father's  peaches, 
and  universally  famed,  not  merely  for  her  beauty, 
but  her  vast  expectations.  She  was,  withal,  a  little 
of  a  coquette,  as  might  be  perceived  even  in  her 
dress,  which  was  a  mixture  of  ancient  and  mod 
ern  fashions,  as  most  suited  to  set  off  her  charms. 
She  wore  the  ornaments  of  pure  yellow  gold 
which  her  great-great-grandmother  had  brought 
over  from  Saardam  ;  the  tempting  stomacher  of 
the  olden  time  ;  and  withal  a  provokingly  short 
petticoat,  to  display  the  prettiest  foot  and  ankle 
in  the  country  round. 

"  Ichabod  Crane  had  a  soft  and  foolish  heart 
towards  the  sex  ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at 
that  so  tempting  a  morsel  soon  found  favor  in  his 
eyes,  more  especially  after  he  had  visited  her  in 
her  paternal  mansion.  Old  Baltus  Van  Tassel 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC    WORKS.         229 

was  a  perfect  picture  of  a  thriving,  contented, 
liberal-hearted  farmer.  He  seldom,  it  is  true,  sent 
either  his  eyes  or  his  thoughts  beyond  the  bound 
aries  of  his  own  farm  ;  but  within  those  every 
thing  was  snug,  happy,  and  well-conditioned.  He 
was  satisfied  with  his  wealth,  but  not  proud  of  it ; 
and  piqued  himself  upon  the  hearty  abundance 
rather  than  the  style  in  which  he  lived.  His 
stronghold  was  situated  on  the  banks  of  the  Hud 
son,  in  one  of  those  green,  sheltered,  fertile  nooks 
in  which  the  Dutch  farmers  are  so  fond  of  nest 
ling.  A  great  elm-tree  spread  its  broad  branches 
over  it,  at  the  foot  of  which  bubbled  up  a  spring 
of  the  softest  and  sweetest  water,  in  a  little  well, 
formed  of  a  barrel,  and  then  stole  sparkling 
away  through  the  grass  to  a  neighboring  brook, 
that  bubbled  along  among  alders  and  dwarf  wil 
lows.  Hard  by  the  farm-house  was  a  vast  barn, 
that  might  have  served  for  a  church,  every  win 
dow  and  crevice  of  which  seemed  bursting  forth 
with  the  treasures  of  the  farm.  The  flail  was 
busily  resounding  within  it  from  morning  till 
night ;  swallows  and  martins  skimmed  twittering 
about  the  eaves  ;  and  rows  of  pigeons,  some  with 
one  eye  turned  up,  as  if  watching  the  weather, 
some  with  their  heads  under  their  wings,  or 
buried  in  their  bosoms,  and  others  swelling  and 
cooing  and  bowing  about  their  dames,  were  en 
joying  the  sunshine  on  the  roof.  Sleek,  unwieldy 


230  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

porkers  were  grunting  in  the  repose  and  abun 
dance  of  their  pens,  whence  sallied  forth,  now 
arid  then,  troops  of  sucking  pigs,  as  if  to  snuff 
the  air.  A  stately  squadron  of  snowy  geese  were 
riding  in  an  adjoining  pond,  convoying  whole 
fleets  of  ducks  ;  regiments  of  turkeys  were  gob 
bling  through  the  farm-yard,  and  guinea  fowls 
fretting  about  it,  like  ill-tempered  housewives, 
with  their  peevish,  discontented  cry.  Before  the 
barn  door  strutted  the  gallant  cock,  that  pattern 
of  a  husband,  a  warrior,  and  a  fine  gentleman, 
clapping  his  burnished  wings,  and  crowing  in  the 
pride  and  gladness  of  his  heart  —  sometimes  tear 
ing  up  the  earth  with  his  feet,  and  then  gener 
ously  calling  his  ever-hungry  family  of  wives  and 
children  to  enjoy  the  rich  morsel  which  he  had 
discovered. 

"  The  pedagogue's  mouth  watered  as  he  looked 
upon  this  sumptuous  promise  of  luxurious  winter 
fare.  In  his  devouring  mind's  eye  he  pictured 
to  himself  every  roasting-pig  running  about  with 
a  pudding  in  his  belly,  and  an  apple  in  his  mouth ; 
the  pigeons  were  snugly  put  to  bed  in  a  comfort 
able  pie,  and  tucked  in  with  a  coverlet  of  crust ; 
the  geese  were  swimming  in  their  own  gravy,  and 
the  ducks  pairing  cosily  in  dishes,  like  snug  mar 
ried  couples,  with  a  decent  competency  of  onion- 
sauce.  In  the  porkers  he  saw  carved  out  the 
future  sleek  side  of  bacon,  and  juicy  relishing 


THE   CHARACTERISTIC    WORKS.        231 

ham  ;  not  a  turkey  but  he  beheld  daintily  trussed 
up,  with  its  gizzard  under  its  wing,  and,  perad- 
venture,  a  necklace  of  savory  sausages  ;  and  even 
bright  chanticleer  himself  lay  sprawling  on  his 
back,  in  a  side-dish,  with  uplifted  claws,  as  if 
craving  that  quarter  which  his  chivalrous  spirit 
disdained  to  ask  while  living. 

"  As  the  enraptured  Ichabod  fancied  all  this, 
and  as  he  rolled  his  great  green  eyes  over  the  fat 
meadow-lands,  the  rich  fields  of  wheat,  of  rye,  of 
buckwheat,  and  Indian  corn,  and  the  orchard 
burdened  with  ruddy  fruit,  which  surrounded  the 
warm  tenement  of  Van  Tassel,  his  heart  yearned 
after  the  damsel  who  was  to  inherit  these  do 
mains,  and  his  imagination  expanded  with  the 
idea  how  they  might  be  readily  turned  into  cash, 
and  the  money  invested  in  immense  tracts  of  wild 
land  and  shingle  palaces  in  the  wilderness.  Nay, 
his  busy  fancy  already  realized  his  hopes,  and 
presented  to  him  the  blooming  Katrina,  with  a 
whole  family  of  children,  mounted  on  the  top  of 
a  wagon  loaded  with  household  trumpery,  with 
pots  and  kettles  dangling  beneath;  and  he  be 
held  himself  bestriding  a  pacing  mare,  with  a 
colt  at  her  heels,  setting  out  for  Kentucky,  Ten 
nessee,  or  the  Lord  knows  where. 

"  When  he  entered  the  house,  the  conquest  of 
his  heart  was  complete.  It  was  one  of  those  spa 
cious  farm-houses,  with  high-ridged,  but  lowly- 


232  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

sloping  roofs,  built  in  the  style  handed  down  from 
the  first  Dutch  settlers  ;  the  low  projecting  eaves 
forming  a  piazza  along  the  front,  capable  of  be 
ing  closed  up  in  bad  weather.  Under  this  were 
hung  flails,  harness,  various  utensils  of  husbandry, 
and  nets  for  fishing  in  the  neighboring  river. 
Benches  were  built  along  the  sides  for  summer 
use  ;  and  a  great  spinning-wheel  at  one  end,  and 
a  churn  at  the  other,  showed  the  various  uses  to 
which  this  important  porch  might  be  devoted. 
From  this  piazza  the  wondering  Ichabod  entered 
the  hall,  which  formed  the  centre  of  the  mansion 
and  the  place  of  usual  residence.  Here,  rows  of 
resplendent  pewter,  ranged  on  a  long  dresser, 
dazzled  his  eyes.  In  one  corner  stood  a  huge 
bag  of  wool  ready  to  be  spun  ;  in  another  a  quan 
tity  of  linsey-woolsey  just  from  the  loom ;  ears 
of  Indian  corn,  and  strings  of  dried  apples  and 
peaches,  hung  in  gay  festoons  along  the  walls, 
mingled  with  the  gaud  of  red  peppers  ;  and  a 
door  left  ajar  gave  him  a  peep  into  the  best  par 
lor,  where  the  claw-footed  chairs  and  dark  ma 
hogany  tables  shone  like  mirrors  ;  and  irons,  with 
their  accompanying  shovel  and  tongs,  glistened 
from  their  covert  of  asparagus  tops  ;  mock-or 
anges  and  conch-shells  decorated  the  mantel 
piece  ;  strings  of  various  colored  birds'  eggs  were 
suspended  above  it ;  a  great  ostrich  egg  was  hung 
from  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  a  corner  cup- 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         233 

board,  knowingly  left  open,  displayed  immense 
treasures  of  old  silver  and  well-mended  china." 

It  is  an  abrupt  transition  from  these 
homely  scenes,  which  humor  commends  to 
our  liking,  to  the  chivalrous  pageant  un 
rolled  for  us  in  the  "  Conquest  of  Granada." 
The  former  are  more  characteristic  and  the 
more  enduring  of  Irving's  writings,  but  as  a 
literary  artist  his  genius  lent  itself  just  as 
readily  to  Oriental  and  mediaeval  romance 
as  to  the  Knickerbocker  legend  ;  and  there 
is  no  doubt  that  the  delicate  perception  he 
had  of  chivalric  achievements  gave  a  refined 
tone  to  his  mock  heroics,  which  greatly 
heightened  their  effect.  It  may  almost  be 
claimed  that  Irving  did  for  Granada  and 
the  Alhambra  what  he  did,  in  a  totally  dif 
ferent  way,  for  New  York  and  its  vicinity. 

The  first  passage  I  take  from  the  "  Con 
quest  "  is  the  description  of  the  advent  at 
Cordova  of  the  Lord  Scales,  Earl  of  Rivers, 
who  was  brother  of  the  queen  of  Henry 
VII.,  a  soldier  who  had  fought  at  Bosworth 
field,  and  now  volunteered  to  aid  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella  in  the  extermination  of  the 
Saracens.  The  description  is  put  into  the 
mouth  of  Fray  Antonio  Agapida,  a  fictitious 


234  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

chronicler  invented  by  Irving,  an  unfortu 
nate  intervention  which  gives  to  the  whole 
book  an  air  of  unveracity  :  — 

"  '  This  cavalier  [he  observes]  was  from  the  far 
island  of  England,  and  brought  with  him  a  train 
of  his  vassals  ;  men  who  had  bepu  hardened  in 
certain  civil  wars  which  raged  in  their  country. 
They  were  a  comely  race  of  men,  but  too  fair 
and  fresh  for  warriors,  not  having  the  sunburnt, 
warlike  hue  of  our  old  Castilian  soldiery.  They 
were  huge  feeders  also,  and  deep  carousers,  and 
could  not  accommodate  themselves  to  the  sober 
diet  of  our  troops,  but  must  fain  eat  and  drink 
after  the  manner  of  their  own  country.  They 
were  often  noisy  and  unruly,  also,  in  their  was 
sail  ;  and  their  quarter  of  the  camp  was  prone 
to  be  a  scene  of  loud  revel  and  sudden  brawl. 
They  were,  withal,  of  great  pride,  yet  it  was  not 
like  our  inflammable  Spanish  pride  :  they  stood 
not  much  upon  the  pundonor,  the  high  punctilio, 
and  rarely  drew  the  stiletto  in  their  disputes  ;  but 
their  pride  was  silent  and  contumelious.  Though 
from  a  remote  and  somewhat  barbarous  island, 
they  believed  themselves  the  most  perfect  men 
upon  earth,  and  magnified  their  chieftain,  the 
Lord  Scales,  beyond  the  greatest  of  their  grandees. 
With  all  this,  it  must  be  said  of  them  that  they 
were  marvelous  good  men  in  the  field,  dexterous 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         285 

archers,  and  powerful  with  the  battle-axe.  In 
their  great  pride  and  self-will,  they  always  sought 
to  press  in  the  advance  and  take  the  post  of  dan 
ger,  trying  to  outvie  our  Spanish  chivalry.  They 
did  not  rush  on  fiercely  to  the  fight,  nor  make 
a  brilliant  onset  like  the  Moorish  and  Spanish 
troops,  but  thej"  went  into  the  fight  deliberately, 
and  persisted  obstinately,  and  were  slow  to  find 
out  when  they  were  beaten.  Withal  they  were 
much  esteemed  yet  little  liked  by  our  soldiery, 
who  considered  them  staunch  companions  in  the 
field,  yet  coveted  but  little  fellowship  with  them 
in  the  camp. 

"  '  Their  commander,  the  Lord  Scales,  was  an 
accomplished  cavalier,  of  gracious  and  noble 
presence  and  fair  speech  ;  it  was  a  marvel  to  see 
so  much  courtesy  in  a  knight  brought  up  so  far 
from  our  Castilian  court.  He  was  much  honored 
by  the  king  and  queen,  and  found  great  favor 
with  the  fair  dames  about  the  court,  who  indeed 
are  rather  prone  to  be  pleased  with  foreign  cava 
liers.  He  went  always  in  costly  state,  attended 
by  pages  and  esquires,  and  accompanied  by  noble 
young  cavaliers  of  his  country,  who  had  enrolled 
themselves  under  his  banner,  to  learn  the  gentle 
exercise  of  arms.  In  all  pageants  and  festivals, 
the  eyes  of  the  populace  were  attracted  by  the 
singular  bearing  and  rich  array  of  the  English 
earl  and  his  train,  who  prided  themselves  in  al- 


236  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

ways  appearing  in  the  garb  and  manner  of  their 
country  —  and  were  indeed  something  very  mag 
nificent,  delectable,  and  strange  to  behold.' 

**  The  worthy  chronicler  is  no  less  elaborate  in 
his  description  of  the  masters  of  Santiago,  Cala- 
trava,  and  Alcantara,  and  their  valiant  knights, 
armed  at  all  points,  and  decorated  with  the  badges 
of  their  orders.  These,  he  affirms,  were  the 
flower  of  Christian  chivalry  ;  being  constantly  in 
service  they  became  more  steadfast  and  accom 
plished  in  discipline  than  the  irregular  and  tem 
porary  levies  of  feudal  nobles.  Calm,  solemn, 
and  stately,  they  sat  like  towers  upon  their  pow 
erful  chargers.  On  parades  they  manifested  none 
of  the  show  and  ostentation  of  the  other  troops : 
neither,  in  battle,  did  they  endeavor  to  signalize 
themselves  by  any  fiery  vivacity,  or  desperate  and 
vainglorious  exploit,  —  everything,  with  them, 
was  measured  and  sedate ;  yet  it  was  observed 
that  none  were  more  warlike  in  their  appearance 
in  the  camp,  or  more  terrible  for  their  achieve 
ments  in  the  field. 

"The  gorgeous  magnificence  of  the  Spanish 
nobles  found  but  little  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the 
sovereigns.  They  saw  that  it  caused  a  competi 
tion  in  expense  ruinous  to  cavaliers  of  moderate 
fortune ;  and  they  feared  that  a  softness  and  ef 
feminacy  might  thus  be  introduced,  incompatible 
with  the  stern  nature  of  the  war.  They  signified 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.        237 

their  disapprobation  to  several  of  the  principal 
tioblemen,  and  recommended  a  more  sober  and 
soldier-like  display  while  in  actual  service. 

"  *  These  are  rare  troops  for  a  tournay,  my 
lord  [said  Ferdinand  to  the  Duke  of  Infantado, 
as  he  beheld  his  retainers  glittering  in  gold  and 
embroidery]  ;  but  gold,  though  gorgeous,  is  soft 
and  yielding :  iron  is  the  metal  for  the  field.' 

" '  Sire  [replied  the  duke],  if  my  men  parade 
in  gold,  your  majesty  will  find  they  fight  with 
steel.'  The  king  smiled,  but  shook  his  head,  and 
the  duke  treasured  up  his  speech  in  his  heart." 

Our  author  excels  in  such  descriptions  as 
that  of  the  progress  of  Isabella  to  the  camp 
of  Ferdinand  after  the  capture  of  Loxa,  and 
of  the  picturesque  pageantry  which  imparted 
something  of  gayety  to  the  brutal  pastime 
of  war  :  — 

"It  was  in  the  early  part  of  June  that  the 
queen  departed  from  Cordova,  with  the  Princess 
Isabella  and  numerous  ladies  of  her  court.  She 
had  a  glorious  attendance  of  cavaliers  and  pages, 
with  many  guards  and  domestics.  There  were 
forty  mules  for  the  use  of  the  queen,  the  prin 
cess,  and  their  train. 

"As  this  courtly  cavalcade  approached  the 
Rock  of  the  Lovers,  on  the  banks  of  the  river 
Yeguas,  they  beheld  a  splendid  train  of  knights 


238  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

advancing  to  meet  them.  It  was  headed  by  that 
accomplished  cavalier  the  Marques  Duke  de  Ca 
diz,  accompanied  by  the  adelantado  of  Andalusia. 
He  had  left  the  camp  the  day  after  the  capture 
of  Illora,  and  advanced  thus  far  to  receive  the 
queen  and  escort  her  over  the  borders.  The 
queen  received  the  marques  with  distinguished 
honor,  for  he  was  esteemed  the  mirror  of  chiv 
alry.  His  actions  in  this  war  had  become  the 
theme  of  every  tongue,  and  many  hesitated  not 
to  compare  him  in  prowess  with  the  immortal 
Cid. 

"Thus  gallantly  attended,  the  queen  entered 
the  vanquished  frontier  of  Granada,  journeying 
securely  along  the  pleasant  banks  of  the  Xenel, 
so  lately  subject  to  the  scourings  of  the  Moors. 
She  stopped  at  Loxa,  where  she  administered 
aid  and  consolation  to  the  wounded,  distributing 
money  among  them  for  their  support,  according 
to  their  rank. 

"The  king,  after  the  capture  of  Illora,  had 
removed  his  camp  before  the  fortress  of  Moclin, 
with  an  intention  of  besieging  it.  Thither  the 
queen  proceeded,  still  escorted  through  the  mount 
ain  roads  by  the  Marques  of  Cadiz.  As  Isabella 
drew  near  to  the  camp,  the  Duke  del  Infantado 
issued  forth  a  league  and  a  half  to  receive  her, 
magnificently  arrayed,  and  followed  by  all  his 
chivalry  in  glorious  attire.  With  him  came  the 


THE   CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         239 

standard  of  Seville,  borne  by  the  men-at-arms  of 
that  renowned  city,  and  the  Prior  of  St.  Juan, 
with  his  followers.  They  ranged  themselves  in 
order  of  battle,  on  the  left  of  the  road  by  which 
the  queen  was  to  pass. 

"  The  worthy  Agapida  is  loyally  minute  in 
his  description  of  the  state  and  grandeur  of  the 
Catholic  sovereigns.  The  queen  rode  a  chestnut 
mule,  seated  in  a  magnificent  saddle-chair,  deco 
rated  with  silver  gilt.  The  housings  of  the  mule 
were  of  fine  crimson  cloth  ;  the  borders  embroid 
ered  with  gold;  the  reins  and  head-piece  were 
of  satin,  curiously  embossed  with  needlework  of 
silk,  and  wrought  with  golden  letters.  The  queen 
wore  a  brial  or  regal  skirt  of  velvet,  under  which 
were  others  of  brocade  ;  a  scarlet  mantle,  orna 
mented  in  the  Moresco  fashion ;  and  a  black  hat, 
embroidered  round  the  crown  and  brim. 

"  The  infanta  was  likewise  mounted  on  a  chest 
nut  mule,  richly  caparisoned.  She  wore  a  brial 
or  skirt  of  black  brocade,  and  a  black  mantle  or 
namented  like  that  of  the  queen. 

"When  the  royal  cavalcade  passed  by  the 
chivalry  of  the  Duke  del  Infantado,  which  was 
drawn  out  in  battle  array,  the  queen  made  a  rev 
erence  to  the  standard  of  Seville,  and  ordered  it 
to  pass  to  the  right  hand.  When  she  approached 
the  camp,  the  multitude  ran  forth  to  meet  her, 
with  great  demonstrations  of  joy;  for  she  was 


240  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

universally  beloved  by  her  subjects.  All  the 
battalions  sallied  forth  in  military  array,  bearing 
the  various  standards  and  banners  of  the  camp, 
which  were  lowered  in  salutation  as  she  passed. 

"  The  king  now  came  forth  in  royal  state, 
mounted  on  a  superb  chestnut  horse,  and  at 
tended  by  many  grandees  of  Castile.  He  wore 
a  jubon  or  close  vest  of  crimson  cloth,  with 
cuisses  or  short  skirts  of  yellow  satin,  a  loose 
cassock  of  brocade,  a  rich  Moorish  scimiter,  and 
a  hat  with  plumes.  The  grandees  who  attended 
him  were  arrayed  with  wonderful  magnificence, 
each  according  to  his  taste  and  invention. 

"  These  high  and  mighty  princes  [says  Antonio 
Agapida]  regarded  each  other  with  great  defer 
ence,  as  allied  sovereigns  rather  than  with  con 
nubial  familiarity,  as  mere  husband  and  wife. 
When  they  approached  each  other,  therefore,  be 
fore  embracing,  they  made  three  profound  rever 
ences,  the  queen  taking  off  her  hat,  and  remain 
ing  in  a  silk  net  or  cawl,  with  her  face  uncovered. 
The  king  then  approached  and  embraced  her,  and 
kissed  her  respectfully  on  the  cheek.  He  also 
embraced  his  daughter  the  princess  ;  and,  making 
the  sign  of  the  cross,  he  blessed  her,  and  kissed 
her  on  the  lips. 

"  The  good  Agapida  seems  scarcely  to  have 
been  more  struck  with  the  appearance  of  the  sov 
ereigns  than  with  that  of  the  English  earl.  He 


THE   CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         241 

followed  [says  he]  immediately  after  the  king, 
with  great  pomp,  and,  in  an  extraordinary  man 
ner,  taking  precedence  of  all  the  rest.  He  was 
mounted  '  a  la  guisa,'  or  with  long  stirrups,  on  a 
superb  chestnut  horse,  with  trappings  of  azure 
silk  which  reached  to  the  ground.  The  housings 
were  of  mulberry,  powdered  with  stars  of  gold. 
He  was  armed  in  proof,  and  wo/e  over  his  armor 
a  short  French  mantle  of  black  brocade  ;  he  had 
a  white  French  hat  with  plumes,  and  carried  on 
his  left  arm  a  small  round  buckler,  banded  with 
gold.  Five  pages  attended  him,  apparelled  in 
silk  and  brocade,  and  mounted  on  horses  sumpt 
uously  caparisoned ;  he  had  also  a  train  of  fol 
lowers,  bravely  attired  after  the  fashion  of  his 
country. 

"  He  advanced  in  a  chivalrous  and  courteous 
manner,  making  his  reverences  first  to  the  queen 
and  infanta,  and  afterwards  to  the  king.  Queen 
Isabella  received  him  graciously,  complimenting 
him  on  his  courageous  conduct  at  Loxa,  and  con 
doling  with  him  on  the  loss  of  his  teeth.  The 
earl,  however,  made  light  of  his  disfiguring  wound, 
saying  that  '  our  blessed  Lord,  who  had  built  all 
that  house,  had  opened  a  window  there,  that  he 
might  see  more  readily  what  passed  within  ; ' 
whereupon  the  worthy  Fray  Antonio  Agapida  is 
more  than  ever  astonished  at  the  pregnant  wit  of 
this  island  cavalier.  The  earl  continued  some 
16 


242  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

little  distance  by  the  side  of  the  royal  family, 
complimenting  them  all  with  courteous  speeches, 
his  horse  curveting  and  caracoling,  but  being 
managed  with  great  grace  and  dexterity,  —  leav 
ing  the  grandees  and  the  people  at  large  not  more 
filled  with  admiration  at  the  strangeness  and  mag 
nificence  of  his  state  than  at  the  excellence  of  his 
horsemanship. 

"  To  testify  hSr  sense  of  the  gallantry  and  ser 
vices  of  this  noble  English  knight,  who  had  come 
from  so  far  to  assist  in  their  wars,  the  queen  sent 
him  the  next  day  presents  of  twelve  horses,  with 
stately  tents,  fine  linen,  two  beds  with  coverings 
of  gold  brocade,  and  many  other  articles  of  great 
value." 

The  protracted  siege  of  the  city  of  Gra 
nada  was  the  occasion  of  feats  of  arms  and 
hostile  courtesies  which  rival  in  brilliancy 
any  in  the  romances  of  chivalry.  Irving's 
pen  is  never  more  congenially  employed 
than  in  describing  these  desperate  but  ro 
mantic  encounters.  One  of  the  most  pict 
uresque  of  these  was  known  as  "the  queen's 
skirmish."  Tbe  royal  encampment  was 
situated  so  far  from  Granada  that  only  the 
general  aspect  of  the  city  could  be  seen  as 
it  rose  from  the  vega,  covering  tbe  sides 
of  the  hills  with  its  palaces  and  towers. 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         243 

Queen  Isabella  expressed  a  desire  for  a 
nearer  view  of  the  city,  whose  beauty  was 
renowned  throughout  the  world,  and  the 
courteous  Marques  of  Cadiz  proposed  to  give 
her  this  perilous  gratification. 

"  On  the  morning  of  June  the  18th,  a  magnifi 
cent  and  powerful  train  issued  from  the  Chris 
tian  camp.  The  advanced  guaVd  was  composed 
of  legions  of  cavalry,  heavily  armed,  looking  like 
moving  masses  of  polished  steel.  Then  came 
the  king  and  queen,  with  the  prince  and  prin 
cesses,  and  the  ladies  of  the  court,  surrounded  by 
the  royal  body-guard,  sumptuously  arrayed,  com 
posed  of  the  sons  of  the  most  illustrious  houses 
of  Spain ;  after  these  was  the  rear-guard,  a  pow 
erful  force  of  horse  and  foot ;  for  the  flower  of 
the  army  sallied  forth  that  day.  The  Moors 
gazed  with  fearful  admiration  at  this  glorious 
pageant,  wherein  the  pomp  of  the  court  was  min 
gled  with  the  terrors  of  the  camp.  It  moved 
along  in  radiant  line,  across  the  vega,  to  the  me 
lodious  thunders  of  martial  music,  while  banner 
and  plume,  and  silken  scarf,  and  rich  brocade, 
gave  a  gay  and  gorgeous  relief  to  the  grim  vis 
age  of  iron  war  that  lurked  beneath. 

"  The  army  moved  towards  the  hamlet  of  Zu- 
bia,  built  on  the  skirts  of  the  mountain  to  the 
left  of  Granada,  and  commanding  a  view  of  the 


244  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

Alhambra,  and  the  most  beautiful  quarter  of  the 
city.  As  they  approached  the  hamlet,  the  Mar 
ques  of  Villena,  the  Count  Urena,  and  Don 
Alonzo  de  Aguilar  filed  off  with  their  battalions, 
and  were  soon  seen  glittering  along  the  side  of 
the  mountain  above  the  village.  In  the  mean 
time  the  Marques  of  Cadiz,  the  Count  de  Ten- 
dilla,  the  Count  de  Cabra,  and  Don  Alonzo  Fer 
nandez,  senior  of  Alcaudrete  and  Montemayor, 
drew  up  their  forces  in  battle  array  on  the  plain 
below  the  hamlet,  presenting  a  living  barrier  of 
loyal  chivalry  between  the  sovereigns  and  the 
city. 

"  Thus  securely  guarded,  the  royal  party  alight 
ed,  and,  entering  one  of  the  houses  of  the  ham 
let,  which  had  been  prepared  for  their  reception, 
enjoyed  a  full  view  of  the  city  from  its  terraced 
roof.  The  ladies  of  the  court  gazed  with  delight 
at  the  red  towers  of  the  Alhambra,  rising  from 
amid  shady  groves,  anticipating  the  time  when 
the  Catholic  sovereigns  should  be  enthroned 
within  its  walls,  and  its  courts  shine  with  the 
splendor  of  Spanish  chivalry.  *  The  reverend 
prelates  and  holy  friars,  who  always  surrounded 
the  queen,  looked  with  serene  satisfaction,'  says 
Fray  Antonio  Agapida,  '  at  this  modern  Baby 
lon,  enjoying  the  triumph  that  awaited  them, 
when  those  mosques  and  minarets  should  be  con 
verted  into  churches,  and  goodly  priests  and 
bishops  should  succeed  to  the  infidel  alfaquis.' 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         245 

"  When  the  Moors  beheld  the  Christians  thus 
drawn  forth  in  full  array  in  the  plain,  they  sup 
posed  it  was  to  offer  battle,  and  hesitated  not  to 
accept  it.  In  a  little  while  the  queen  beheld  a 
body  of  Moorish  cavalry  pouring  into  the  vega, 
the  riders  managing  their  fleet  and  fiery  steeds 
with  admirable  address.  They  were  richly  armed, 
and  clothed  in  the  most  brilliant  colors,  and  the 
caparisons  of  their  steeds  flamed  with  gold  and 
embroidery.  This  was  the  favorite  squadron  of 
Muza,  composed  of  the  flower  of  the  youthful 
cavaliers  of  Granada.  Others  succeeded,  some 
heavily  armed,  others  a  la  gineta,  with  lance  and 
buckler  ;  and  lastly  came  the  legions  of  foot-sol 
diers,  with  arquebus  and  cross-bow,  and  spear 
and  scimiter. 

"  When  the  queen  saw  this  army  issuing  from 
the  city,  she  sent  to  the  Marques  of  Cadiz,  and 
forbade  any  attack  upon  the  enemy,  or  the  ac 
ceptance  of  any  challenge  to  a  skirmish  ;  for  she 
was  loth  that  her  curiosity  should  cost  the  life  of 
a  single  human  being. 

44  The  marques  promised  to  obey,  though  sorely 
against  his  will ;  and  it  grieved  the  spirit  of  the 
Spanish  cavaliers  to  be  obliged  to  remain  with 
sheathed  swords  while  bearded  by  the  foe.  The 
Moors  could  not  comprehend  the  meaning  of  this 
inaction  of  the  Christians,  after  having  appar 
ently  invited  a  battle.  They  sallied  several 


246  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

times  from  their  ranks,  and  approached  near 
enough  to  discharge  their  arrows  ;  but  the  Chris 
tians  were  immovable.  Many  of  the  Moorish 
horsemen  galloped  close  to  the  Christian  ranks, 
brandishing  their  lances  and  scimiters,  and  de 
fying  various  cavaliers  to  single  combat ;  but 
Ferdinand  had  rigorously  prohibited  all  duels  of 
this  kind,  and  they  dared  not  transgress  his  or 
ders  under  his  very  eye. 

"  Here,  however,  the  worthy  Fray  Antonio 
Agapida,  in  his  enthusiasm  for  the  triumphs  of 
the  faith,  records  the  following  incident,  which 
we  fear  is  not  sustained  by  any  grave  chronicler 
of  the  times,  but  rests  merely  on  tradition,  or 
the  authority  of  certain  poets  and  dramatic  writ 
ers,  who  have  perpetuated  the  tradition  in  their 
works.  While  this  grim  and  reluctant  tranquil 
lity  prevailed  along  the  Christian  line,  says  Aga 
pida,  there  rose  a  mingled  shout  and  sound  of 
laughter  near  the  gate  of  the  city.  A  Moorish 
horseman,  armed  at  all  points,  issued  forth,  fol 
lowed  by  a  rabble,  who  drew  back  as  he  ap 
proached  the  scene  of  danger.  The  Moor  was 
more  robust  and  brawny  than  was  common  with 
his  countrymen.  His  visor  was  closed  ;  he  bore 
a  huge  buckler  and  a  ponderous  lance  ;  his  scimi- 
ter  was  of  a  Damascus  blade,  and  his  richly  orna 
mented  dagger  was  wrought  by  an  artificer  of 
Fez.  He  was  known  by  his  device  to  be  Tarfe, 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         247 

the  most  insolent,  yet  valiant,  of  the  Moslem 
warriors  —  the  same  who  had  hurled  into  tho 
royal  camp  his  lance,  inscribed  to  the  queen.  As 
he  rode  slowly  along  in  front  of  the  army,  his 
very  steed,  prancing  with  fiery  eye  and  distended 
nostril,  seemed  to  breathe  defiance  to  the  Chris 
tians. 

"  But  what  were  the  feelings  of  the  Spanish 
cavaliers  when  they  beheld,  tied  to  the  tail  of 
his  steed,  and  dragged  in  the  dust,  the  very  in 
scription,  'AvE  MARIA,'  which  Hernan  Perez 
del  Pulgar  had  affixed  to  the  door  of  the  mosque ! 
A  burst  of  horror  and  indignation  broke  forth 
from  the  army.  Hernan  was  not  at  hand,  to 
maintain  his  previous  achievement ;  but  one  of 
his  young  companions  in  arms,  Garcilasso  de  la 
Vega  by  name,  putting  spurs  to  his  horse,  gal 
loped  to  the  hamlet  of  Zubia,  threw  himself  on 
his  knees  before  the  king,  and  besought  permis 
sion  to  accept  the  defiance  of  this  insolent  infidel, 
and  to  revenge  the  insult  offered  to  our  Blessed 
Lady.  The  request  was  too  pious  to  be  refused. 
Garcilasso  remounted  his  steed,  closed  his  helmet, 
graced  by  four  sable  plumes,  grasped  his  buck 
ler  of  Flemish  workmanship,  and  his  lance  of 
matchless  temper,  and  defied  the  haughty  Moor 
in  the  midst  of  his  career.  A  combat  took  place 
in  view  of  the  two  armies  and  of  the  Castilian 
court.  The  Moor  was  powerful  in  wielding  his 


248  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

weapons,  and  dexterous  in  managing  his  steed. 
He  was  of  larger  frame  than  Garcilasso,  and 
more  completely  armed,  and  the  Christians  trem 
bled  for  their  champion.  The  shock  of  their 
encounter  was  dreadful ;  their  lances  were  shiv 
ered,  and  sent  up  splinters  in  the  air.  Garcilasso 
was  thrown  back  in  his  saddle  —  his  horse  made 
a  wide  career  before  he  could  recover,  gather  up 
the  reins,  and  return  to  the  conflict.  They  now 
encountered  each  other  with  swords.  The  Moor 
circled  round  his  opponent,  as  a  hawk  circles 
when  about  to  make  a  swoop  ;  his  steed  obeyed 
his  rider  with  matchless  quickness ;  at  every  at 
tack  of  the  infidel,  it  seemed  as  if  the  Christian 
knight  must  sink  beneath  his  flashing  scimiter. 
But  if  Garcilasso  was  inferior  to  him  in  power, 
he  was  superior  in  agility;  many  of  his  blows 
he  parried ;  others  he  received  upon  his  Flemish 
shield,  which  was  proof  against  the  Damascus 
blade.  The  blood  streamed  from  numerous 
wounds  received  by  either  warrior.  The  Moor, 
seeing  his  antagonist  exhausted,  availed  himself 
of  his  superior  force,  and,  grappling,  endeavored 
to  wrest  him  from  his  saddle.  They  both  fell  to 
earth ;  the  Moor  placed  his  knee  upon  the  breast 
of  his  victim,  and,  brandishing  his  dagger,  aimed 
a  blow  at  his  throat.  A  cry  of  despair  was  ut 
tered  by  the  Christian  warriors,  when  suddenly 
they  beheld  the  Moor  rolling  lifeless  in  the  dust 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC    WORKS.         249 

Garcilasso  had  shortened  his  sword,  and,  as  his 
adversary  raised  his  arm  to  strike,  had  pierced 
him  to  the  heart.  *  It  was  a  singular  and  mirac 
ulous  victory,'  says  Fray  Antonio  Agapida ;  '  but 
the  Christian  knight  was  armed  by  the  sacred 
nature  of  his  cause,  and  the  Holy  Virgin  gave 
him  strength,  like  another  David,  to  slay  this 
gigantic  champion  of  the  Gentiles.' 

"  The  laws  of  chivalry  were  observed  through 
out  the  combat  —  no  one  interfered  on  either 
side.  Garcilasso  now  despoiled  his  adversary  ; 
then,  rescuing  the  holy  inscription  of  '  AVE 
MARIA  '  from  its  degrading  situation,  he  elevated 
it  on  the  point  of  his  sword,  and  bore  it  off  as  a 
signal  of  triumph,  amidst  the  rapturous  shouts 
of  the  Christian  army. 

"  The  sun  had  now  reached  the  meridian,  and 
the  hot  blood  of  the  Moors  was  inflamed  by  its 
rays,  and  by  the  sight  of  the  defeat  of  their 
champion.  Muza  ordered  two  pieces  of  ordnance 
to  open  a  fire  upon  the  Christians.  A  confusion 
was  produced  in  one  part  of  their  ranks :  Muza 
called  to  the  chiefs  of  the  army,  '  Let  us  waste 
no  more  time  in  empty  challenges  —  let  us  charge 
upon  the  enemy  :  he  who  assaults  has  always  an 
advantage  in  the  combat.'  So  saying,  he  rushed 
forward,  followed  by  a  large  body  of  horse  and 
foot,  and  charged  so  furiously  upon  the  advance 
guard  of  the  Christians,  that  he  drove  it  in  upon 
the  battalion  of  the  Marques  of  Cadiz. 


250  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

"  The  gallant  marques  now  considered  himself 
absolved  from  all  further  obedience  to  the  queen's 
commands.  He  gave  the  signal  to  attack.  '  San 
tiago  ! '  was  shouted  along  the  line  ;  and  he  pressed 
forward  to  the  encounter,  with  his  battalion  of 
twelve  hundred  lances.  The  other  cavaliers  fol 
lowed  his  example,  and  the  battle  instantly  be 
came  general. 

"  When  the  king  and  queen  beheld  the  armies 
thus  rushing  to  the  combat,  they  threw  them 
selves  on  their  knees,  and  implored  the  Holy  Vir 
gin  to  protect  her  faithful  warriors.  The  prince 
and  princess,  the  ladies  of  the  court,  and  the  prel 
ates  and  friars  who  were  present,  did  the  same ; 
and  the  effect  of  the  prayers  of  these  illustrious 
and  saintly  persons  was  immediately  apparent. 
The  fierceness  with  which  the  Moors  had  rushed 
to  the  attack  was  suddenly  cooled ;  they  were 
bold  and  adroit  for  a  skirmish,  but  unequal  to  the 
veteran  Spaniards  in  the  open  field.  A  panic 
seized  upon  the  foot-soldiers  —  they  turned  and 
took  to  flight.  Muza  and  his  cavaliers  in  vain 
endeavored  to  rally  them.  Some  took  refuge  in 
the  mountains ;  but  the  greater  part  fled  to  the 
city,  in  such  confusion  that  they  overturned  and 
trampled  upon  each  other.  The  Christians  pur 
sued  them  to  the  very  gates.  Upwards  of  two 
thousand  were  either  killed,  wounded,  or  takeu 
prisoners  ;  and  the  two  pieces  of  ordnance  were 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC    WORKS.         2ol 

brought  off  as  trophies  of  the  victory.  Not  a 
Christian  lance  but  was  bathed  that  day  in  the 
blood  of  an  infidel. 

"  Such  was  the  brief  but  bloody  action  which 
was  known  among  the  Christian  warriors  by  the 
name  of  "  The  Queen's  Skirmish ; "  for  when  the 
Marques  of  Cadiz  waited  upon  her  majesty  to 
apologize  for  breaking  her  commands,  he  attrib 
uted  the  victory  entirely  to  her  presence.  The 
queen,  however,  insisted  that  it  was  all  owing  to 
her  troops  being  led  on  by  so  valiant  a  com 
mander.  Her  majesty  had  not  yet  recovered 
from  her  agitation  at  beholding  so  terrible  a 
scene  of  bloodshed,  though  certain  veterans  pres 
ent  pronounced  it  as  gay  and  gentle  a  skirmish 
as  they  had  ever  witnessed.'* 

The  charm  of  "  The  Alhambra  "  is  largely 
in  the  leisurely,  loitering,  dreamy  spirit  in 
which  the  temporary  American  resident  of 
the  ancient  palace-fortress  entered  into  its 
mouldering  beauties  and  romantic  associa 
tions,  and  in  the  artistic  skill  with  which 
he  wove  the  commonplace  daily  life  of  his 
attendants  there  into  the  more  brilliant 
woof  of  its  past.  The  book  abounds  in  de 
lightful  legends,  and  yet  these  are  all  so 
touched  with  the  author's  airy  humor  that 
our  credulity  is  never  overtaxed  ;  we  imbibe 


252  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

all  the  romantic  interest  of  the  place  with 
out  for  a  moment  losing  our  hold  upon  re 
ality.  The  enchantments  of  this  Moorish 
paradise  become  part  of  our  mental  pos 
sessions,  without  the  least  shock  to  our 
common  sense.  After  a  few  days  of  resi 
dence  in  the  part  of  the  Alhambra  occupied 
by  Dame  Tia  Antonia  and  her  family,  of 
which  the  handmaid  Dolores  was  the  most 
fascinating  member,  Irving  succeeded  in  es 
tablishing  himself  in  a  remote  and  vacant 
part  of  the  vast  pile,  in  a  suite  of  delicate 
and  elegant  chambers,  with  secluded  gar 
dens  and  fountains,  that  had  once  been  oc 
cupied  by  the  beautiful  Elizabeth  of  Far- 
nese,  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Parma,  and 
more  than  four  centuries  ago  by  a  Moorish 
beauty  named  Lindaraxa,  who  flourished 
in  the  court  of  Muhamed  the  Left-Handed. 
These  solitary  and  ruined  chambers  had 
their  own  terrors  and  enchantments,  and 
for  the  first  nights  gave  the  author  little 
but  sinister  suggestions  and  grotesque  food 
for  his  imagination.  But  familiarity  dis 
persed  the  gloom  and  the  superstitious  fan 
cies. 

"  In  the  course  of  a  few  evenings  a  thorough 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         253 

change  took  place  in  the  scene  and  its  associa 
tions.  The  moon,  which  when  I  took  possession 
of  my  new  apartments  was  invisible,  gradually 
gained  each  evening  upon  the  darkness  of  the 
night,  and  at  length  rolled  in  full  splendor  above 
the  towers,  pouring  a  flood  of  tempered  light 
into  every  court  and  hall.  The  garden  beneath 
my  window,  before  wrapped  in  gloom,  was  gently 
lighted  up ;  the  orange  and  citron  trees  were 
tipped  with  silver ;  the  fountain  sparkled  in  the 
moonbeams,  and  even  the  blush  of  the  rose  was 
faintly  visible. 

"  I  now  felt  the  poetic  merit  of  the  Arabic  in 
scription  on  the  walls, :  '  How  beauteous  is  this 
garden  ;  where  the  flowers  of  the  earth  vie  with 
the  stars  of  heaven.  What  can  compare  with 
the  vase  of  yon  alabaster  fountain  filled  with 
crystal  water?  nothing  but  the  moon  in  her 
fullness,  shining  in  the  midst  of  an  unclouded 
sky!* 

"  On  such  heavenly  nights  I  would  sit  for  hours 
at  my  window  inhaling  the  sweetness  of  the  gar 
den,  and  musing  on  the  checkered  fortunes  of 
those  whose  history  was  dimly  shadowed  out  in 
the  elegant  memorials  around.  Sometimes,  when 
all  was  quiet,  and  the  clock  from  the  distant  ca 
thedral  of  Granada  struck  the  midnight  hour,  I 
have  sallied  out  on  another  tour  and  wandered 
over  the  whole  building ;  but  how  different  from 


254  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

my  first  tour !  No  longer  dark  and  mysterious  ; 
no  longer  peopled  with  shadowy  foes  :  no  longer 
recalling  scenes  of  violence  and  murder  ;  all  was 
open,  spacious,  beautiful ;  everything  called  up 
pleasing  and  romantic  fancies ;  Lindaraxa  once 
more  walked  in  her  garden  ;  the  gay  chivalry  of 
Moslem  Granada  once  more  glittered  about  the 
Court  of  Lions !  Who  can  do  justice  to  a  moon 
light  night  in  such  a  climate  and  such  a  place? 
The  temperature  of  a  summer  midnight  in  An 
dalusia  is  perfectly  ethereal.  We  seem  lifted  up 
into  a  purer  atmosphere ;  we  feel  a  serenity  of 
soul,  a  buoyancy  of  spirits,  an  elasticity  of  frame, 
which  render  mere  existence  happiness.  But 
when  moonlight  is  added  to  all  this,  the  effect 
is  like  enchantment.  Under  its  plastic  sway  the 
Alhambra  seems  to  regain  its  pristine  glories. 
Every  rent  and  chasm  of  time,  every  moulder 
ing  tint  and  weather-stain, is  gone;  the  marble 
resumes  its  original  whiteness ;  the  long  colon 
nades  brighten  in  the  moonbeams ;  the  halls  are 
illuminated  with  a  softened  radiance,  —  we  tread 
the  enchanted  palace  of  an  Arabian  tale ! 

"  What  a  delight,  at  such  a  time,  to  ascend  to 
the  little  airy  pavilion  of  the  queen's  toilet  (el 
tocador  de  la  reyna),  which,  like  a  bird-cage, 
overhangs  the  valley  of  the  Darro,  and  gaze  from 
its  light  arcades  upon  the  moonlight  prospect ! 
To  the  right,  the  swelling  mountains  of  the 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC    WORKS.         2o5 

Sierra  Nevada,  robbed  of  their  ruggedness  and 
softened  into  a  fairy  land,  with  their  snowy  sum 
mits  gleaming  like  silver  clouds  against  the  deep 
blue  sky.  And  then  to  lean  over  the  parapet  of 
the  Tocador  and  gaze  down  upon  Granada  and 
the  Albaycin  spread  out  like  a  map  below  ;  all 
buried  in  deep  repose ;  the  white  palaces  and 
convents  sleeping  in  the  moonshine,  and  beyond 
all  these  the  vapory  vega  fading  away  like  a 
dreamland  in  the  distance. 

"  Sometimes  the  faint  click  of  castanets  rise 
from  the  Alameda,  where  some  gay  Andalusians 
are  dancing  away  the  summer  night.  Sometimes 
the  dubious  tones  of  a  guitar  and  the  notes  of 
an  amorous  voice,  tell  perchance  the  whereabout 
of  some  moonstruck  lover  serenading  his  lady's 
window. 

"  Such  is  a  faint  picture  of  the  moonlight  nights 
I  have  passed  loitering  about  the  courts  and  halls 
and  balconies  of  this  most  suggestive  pile  ;  '  feed 
ing  my  fancy  with  sugared  suppositions,'  and  en 
joying  that  mixture  of  reverie  and  sensation  which 
steal  away  existence  in  a  southern  climate  ;  so 
that  it  has  been  almost  morning  before  I  have 
retired  to  bed,  and  been  lulled  to  sleep  by  the 
falling  waters  of  the  fountain  of  Lindaraxa." 

One  of  the  writer's  vantage  points  of  ob 
servation  was  a  balcony  of  the  central  win- 


256  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

dow  of  the  Hall  of  Ambassadors,  from 
which  he  had  a  magnificent  prospect  of 
mountain,  valley,  and  vega,  and  could  look 
down  upon  a  busy  scene  of  human  life  in 
an  alameda,  or  public  walk,  at  the  foot  of 
the  bill,  and  the  suburb  of  the  city,  filling 
the  narrow  gorge  below.  Here  the  author 
used  to  sit  for  hours,  weaving  histories  out 
of  the  casual  incidents  passing  under  his 
eye,  and  the  occupations  of  the  busy  mor 
tals  below.  The  following  passage  exhibits 
his  power  in  transmuting  the  commonplace 
life  of  the  present  into  material  perfectly  in 
keeping  with  the  romantic  associations  of 
the  place :  — 

"  There  was  scarce  a  pretty  face  or  a  striking 
figure  that  I  daily  saw,  about  which  I  had  not 
thus  gradually  framed  a  dramatic  story,  though 
some  of  my  characters  would  occasionally  act  in 
direct  opposition  to  the  part  assigned  them,  and 
disconcert  the  whole  drama.  Reconnoitring  one 
day  with  my  glass  the  streets  of  the  Albaycin,  I 
beheld  the  procession  of  a  novice  about  to  take 
the  veil ;  and  remarked  several  circumstances 
which  excited  the  strongest  sympathy  in  the  fate 
of  the  youthful  being  thus  about  to  be  consigned 
to  a  living  tomb.  I  ascertained  to  my  satisfaction 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         257 

that  she  was  beautiful,  and,  from  the  paleness  of 
her  cheek,  that  she  was  a  victim  rather  than  a 
votary.  She  was  arrayed  in  bridal  garments, 
and  decked  with  a  chaplet  of  white  flowers,  but 
her  heart  evidently  revolted  at  this  mockery  of  a 
spiritual  union,  and  yearned  after  its  earthly 
loves.  A  tall  stern-looking  man  walked  near 
her  in  the  procession  :  it  was,  of  course,  the  ty 
rannical  father,  who,  from  some  bigoted  or  sordid 
motive,  had  compelled  this  sacrifice.  Amid  the 
crowd  was  a  dark  handsome  youth,  in  Andalusian 
garb,  who  seemed  to  fix  on  her  an  eye  of  agony. 
It  was  doubtless  the  secret  lover  from  whom  she 
was  forever  to  be  separated.  My  indignation  rose 
as  I  noted  the  malignant  expression  painted  on 
the  countenances  of  the  attendant  monks  and 
friars.  The  procession  arrived  at  the  chapel  of 
the  convent ;  the  sun  gleamed  for  the  last  time 
upon  the  chaplet  of  the  poor  novice,  as  she  crossed 
the  fatal  threshold  and  disappeared  within  the 
building.  The  throng  poured  in  with  cowl,  and 
cross,  and  minstrelsy  ;  the  lover  paused  for  a 
moment  at  the  door.  I  could  divine  the  tumult 
of  his  feelings ;  but  he  mastered  them,  and  en 
tered.  There  was  a  long  interval.  I  pictured  to 
myself  the  scene  passing  within  :  the  poor  novice 
despoiled  of  her  transient  finery,  and  clothed  in 
the  conventual  garb;  the  bridal  chaplet  taken 
from  her  brow,  and  her  beautiful  head  shorn  of 
17 


258  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

its  long  silken  tresses.  I  heard  her  murmur  the 
irrevocable  vow.  I  saw  her  extended  on  a  bier  ; 
the  death-pall  spread  over  her  ;  the  funeral  serv 
ice  performed  that  proclaimed  her  dead  to  the 
world ;  her  sighs  were  drowned  in  the  deep  tones 
of  the  organ,  and  the  plaintive  requiem  of  the 
nuns  ;  the  father  looked  on,  unmoved,  without  a 
tear;  the  lover  —  no  —  my  imagination  refused 
to  portray  the  anguish  of  the  lover  —  there  the 
picture  remained  a  blank. 

"  After  a  time  the  throng  again  poured  forth 
and  dispersed  various  ways,  to  enjoy  the  light 
of  the  sun  and  mingle  with  the  stirring  scenes  of 
life  ;  but  the  victim,  with  her  bridal  chaplet,  was 
no  longer  there.  The  door  of  the  convent  closed 
that  severed  her  from  the  world  forever.  I  saw 
the  father  and  the  lover  issue  forth ;  they  were 
in  earnest  conversation.  The  latter  was  vehe 
ment  in  his  gesticulations  ;  I  expected  some  vio 
lent  termination  to  my  drama  ;  but  an  angle  of  a 
building  interfered  and  closed  the  scene.  My 
eye  afterwards  was  frequently  turned  to  that  con 
vent  with  painful  interest.  I  remarked  late  at 
night  a  solitary  light  twinkling  from  a  remote 
lattice  of  one  of  its  towers.  '  There,'  said  I, 
*  the  unhappy  nun  sits  weeping  in  her  cell,  while 
perhaps  her  lover  paces  the  street  below  in  un 
availing  anguish.' 

"  —  The  officious  Mateo  interrupted  my  medi- 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.        259 

tations  and  destroyed  in  an  instant  the  cobweb 
tissue  of  my  fancy.  With  his  usual  zeal  he  had 
gathered  facts  concerning  the  scene,  which  put 
my  fictions  all  to  flight.  The  heroine  of  my  ro 
mance  was  neither  young  nor  handsome ;  she 
had  no  lover;  she  had  entered  the  convent  of 
her  own  free  will,  as  a  respectable  asylum,  and 
was  one  of  the  most  cheerful  residents  within 
its  walls. 

"  It  was  some  little  while  before  I  could  forgive 
the  wrong  done  me  by  the  nun  in  being  thus 
happy  in  her  cell,  in  contradiction  to  all  the  rules 
of  romance ;  I  diverted  my  spleen,  however,  by 
watching,  for  a  day  or  two,  the  pretty  coquetries 
of  a  dark-eyed  brunette,  who,  from  the  covert  of 
a  balcony  shrouded  with  flowering  shrubs  and  a 
silken  awning,  was  carrying  on  a  mysterious  cor 
respondence  with  a  handsome,  dark,  well-whis 
kered  cavalier,  who  lurked  frequently  in  the 
street  beneath  her  window.  Sometimes  I  saw 
him  at  an  early  hour,  stealing  forth  wrapped  to 
the  eyes  in  a  mantle.  Sometimes  he  loitered  at 
a  corner,  in  various  disguises,  apparently  waiting 
for  a  private  signal  to  slip  into  the  house.  Then 
there  was  the  tinkling  of  a  guitar  at  night,  and 
a  lantern  shifted  from  place  to  place  in  the  bal 
cony.  I  imagined  another  intrigue  like  that  of 
Almaviva,  but  was  again  disconcerted  in  all  my 
suppositions.  The  supposed  lover  turned  out  to 


260  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

be  the  husband  of  the  lady,  and  a  noted  contra- 
bandista ;  and  all  his  mysterious  signs  and  move 
ments  had  doubtless  some  smuggling  scheme  in 
view 

"  —  I  occasionally  amused  myself  with  noting 
from  this  balcony  the  gradual  changes  of  the 
scenes  below,  according  to  the  different  stages  of 
the  day. 

"  Scarce  has  the  gray  dawn  streaked  the  sky, 
and  the  earliest  cock  crowed  from  the  cottages  of 
the  hill-side,  when  the  suburbs  give  sign  of  re 
viving  animation  ;  for  the  fresh  hours  of  dawn 
ing  are  precious  in  the  summer  season  in  a  sultry 
climate.  All  are  anxious  to  get  the  start  of  the 
sun,  in  the  business  of  the  day.  The  muleteer 
drives  forth  his  loaded  train  for  the  journey ;  the 
traveler  slings  his  carbine  behind  his  saddle, 
and  mounts  his  steed  at  the  gate  of  the  hostel ; 
the  brown  peasant  from  the  country  urges  for 
ward  his  loitering  beasts,  laden  with  panniers  of 
sunny  fruit  and  fresh  dewy  vegetables,  for  already 
the  thrifty  housewives  are  hastening  to  the 
market. 

"  The  sun  is  up  and  sparkles  along  the  valley, 
tipping  the  transparent  foliage  of  the  groves. 
The  matin  bells  resound  melodiously  through  the 
pure  bright  air,  announcing  the  hour  of  devotion. 
The  muleteer  halts  his  burdened  animals  before 
the  chapel,  thrusts  his  staff  through  his  belt  be- 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         261 

hind,  and  enters  with  hat  in  hand,  smoothing  his 
coal-black  hair,  to  hear  a  mass,  and  to  put  up  a 
prayer  for  a  prosperous  wayfaring  across  the 
sierra.  And  now  steals  forth  on  fairy  foot  the 
gentle  Senora,  in  trim  basquina,  with  restless  fan 
in  hand,  and  dark  eye  flashing  from  beneath  the 
gracefully  folded  mantilla  ;  she  seeks  some  well- 
frequented  church  to  offer  up  her  morning  orisons  ; 
but  the  nicely  adjusted  dress,  the  dainty  shoe 
and  cobweb  stocking,  the  raven  tresses  exquisitely 
braided,  the  fresh-plucked  rose,  gleaming  among 
them  like  a  gem,  show  that  earth  divides  with 
Heaven  the  empire  of  her  thoughts.  Keep  an 
eye  upon  her,  careful  mother,  or  virgin  aunt,  or 
vigilant  duenna,  whichever  you  may  be,  that 
walk  behind ! 

"  As  the  morning  advances,  the  din  of  labor  aug 
ments  on  every  side ;  the  streets  are  thronged 
with  man,  and  steed,  and  beast  of  burden,  and 
there  is  a  hum  and  murmur,  like  the  surges  of 
the  ocean.  As  the  sun  ascends  to  his  meridian, 
the  hum  and  bustle  gradually  decline ;  at  the 
height  of  noon  there  is  a  pause.  The  panting 
city  sinks  into  lassitude,  and  for  several  hours 
there  is  a  general  repose.  The  windows  are 
closed,  the  curtains  drawn,  the  inhabtants  retired 
into  the  coolest  recesses  of  their  mansions ;  the 
full-fed  monk  snores  in  his  dormitory  ;  the  brawny 
porter  lies  stretched  on  the  pavement  beside  his 


262  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

burden ;  the  peasant  and  the  laborer  sleep  be 
neath  the  trees  of  the  Alameda,  lulled  by  the 
sultry  chirping  of  the  locust.  The  streets  are 
deserted,  except  by  the  water-carrier,  who  re 
freshes  the  ear  by  proclaiming  the  merits  of  his 
sparkling  beverage,  *  colder  than  the  mountain 
snow  (mas  fria  que  la  nieve).' 

"  As  the  sun  declines,  there  is  again  a  gradual 
reviving,  and  when  the  vesper  bell  rings  out  his 
sinking  knell,  all  nature  seems  to  rejoice  that  the 
tyrant  of  the  day  has  fallen.  Now  begins  the 
bustle  of  enjoyment,  when  the  citizens  pour  forth 
to  breathe  the  evening  air,  and  revel  away  the 
brief  twilight  in  the  walks  and  gardens  of  the 
Darro  and  Xenil. 

"  As  night  closes,  the  capricious  scene  assumes 
new  features.  Light  after  light  gradually  twink 
les  forth ;  here  a  taper  from  a  balconied  window ; 
there  a  votive  lamp  before  the  image  of  a  saint 
Thus,  by  degrees,  the  city  emerges  from  the  per 
vading  gloom,  and  sparkles  with  scattered  lights, 
like  the  starry  firmament.  Now  break  forth 
from  court  and  garden,  and  street  and  lane,  the 
tinkling  of  innumerable  guitars,  and  the  clicking 
of  castanets ;  blending,  at  this  lofty  height,  in  a 
faint  but  general  concert.  *  Enjoy  the  moment ' 
is  the  creed  of  the  gay  and  amorous  Andalusian, 
and  at  no  time  does  he  practice  it  more  zealously 
than  on  the  balmy  nights  of  summer,  wooing  his 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         263 

mistress  with  the  dance,  the  love-ditty,  and  the 
passionate  serenade." 

How  perfectly  is  the  illusion  of  departed 
splendor  maintained  in  the  opening  of  the 
chapter  on  "  The  Court  of  Lions." 

u  The  peculiar  charm  of  this  old  dreamy  palace 
is  its  power  of  calling  up  vague  reveries  and 
picturings  of  the  past,  and  thus  clothing  naked 
realities  with  the  illusions  of  the  memory  and  the 
imagination.  As  I  delight  to  walk  in  these 
4  vain  shadows/  I  am  prone  to  seek  those  parts 
of  the  Alhambra  which  are  most  favorable  to 
this  phantasmagoria  of  the  mind ;  and  none 
are  more  so  than  the  Court  of  Lions,  and  its 
surrounding  halls.  Here  the  hand  of  time  has 
fallen  the  lightest,  and  the  traces  of  Moorish 
elegance  and  splendor  exist  in  almost  their  orig 
inal  brilliancy.  Earthquakes  have  shaken  the 
foundations  of  this  pile,  and  rent  its  rudest  tow 
ers  ;  yet  see !  not  one  of  those  slender  columns 
has  been  displaced,  not  an  arch  of  that  light  and 
fragile  colonnade  given  way,  and  all  the  fairy 
fretwork  of  these  domes,  apparently  as  unsub 
stantial  as  the  crystal  fabrics  of  a  morning's  frost, 
exist  after  the  lapse  of  centuries,  almost  as  fresh 
as  if  from  the  hand  of  the  Moslem  artist.  I 
write  in  the  midst  of  these  mementos  of  the  past, 
in  the  fresh  hour  of  early  morning,  in  the  fated 


264  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

Hall  of  the  Abencerrages.  The  blood-stained 
fountain,  the  legendary  monument  of  their  mas 
sacre,  is  before  me  ;  the  lofty  jet  almost  casts 
its  dew  upon  my  paper.  How  difficult  to  recon 
cile  the  ancient  tale  of  violence  and  blood  with 
the  gentle  and  peaceful  scene  around!  Every 
thing  here  appears  calculated  to  inspire  kind  and 
happy  feelings,  for  everything  13  delicate  and 
beautiful;  The  very  light  falls  tenderly  from 
above,  through  the  lantern  of  a  dome  tinted  and 
wrought  as  if  by  fairy  hands.  Through  the  am 
ple  and  fretted  arch  of  the  portal  I  behold  the 
Court  of  Lions,  with  brilliant  sunshine  gleaming 
along  its  colonnades  and  sparkling  in  its  fountains. 
The  lively  swallow  dives  into  the  court,  and, 
rising  with  a  surge,  darts  away  twittering  over 
the  roofs ;  the  busy  bee  toils  humming  among 
the  flower-beds ;  and  painted  butterflies  hover 
from  plant  to  plant,  and  flutter  up  and  sport  with 
each  other  in  the  sunny  air.  It  needs  but  a 
slight  exertion  of  the  fancy  to  picture  some  pen 
sive  beauty  of  the  harem  loitering  in  these  se 
cluded  haunts  of  Oriental  luxury. 

"  He,  however,  who  would  behold  this  scene 
under  an  aspect  more  in  unison  with  its  fortunes, 
let  him  come  when  the  shadows  of  evening  tem 
per  the  brightness  of  the  court,  and  throw  a  gloom 
into  the  surrounding  halls.  Then  nothing  can 
be  more  serenely  melancholy,  or  more  in  har 
mony  with  the  tale  of  departed  grandeur. 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         265 

"  At  such  times  I  am  apt  to  seek  the  Hall  of 
Justice,  whose  deep  shadowy  arcades  extend  across 
the  upper  end  of  the  court.  Here  was  per 
formed,  in  presence  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  and 
their  triumphant  court,  the  pompous  ceremonial 
of  high  mass,  on  taking  possession  of  the  Alham- 
bra.  The  very  cross  is  still  to  be  seen  upon  the 
wall,  where  the  altar  was  erected,  and  where 
officiated  the  Grand  Cardinal  of  Spain,  and  others 
of  the  highest  religious  dignitaries  of  the  land. 
I  picture  to  myself  the  scene  when  this  place  was 
filled  with  the  conquering  host,  that  mixture  of 
mitred  prelate  and  shaven  monk,  and  steel-clad 
knight  and  silken  courtier;  when  crosses  and 
crosiers  and  religious  standards  were  mingled 
with  proud  armorial  ensigns  and  the  banners  of 
the  haughty  chiefs  of  Spain,  and  flaunted  in  tri 
umph  through  these  Moslem  halls.  I  picture  to 
myself  Columbus,  the  future  discoverer  of  a 
world,  taking  his  modest  stand  in  a  remote  cor 
ner,  the  humble  and  neglected'  spectator  of  the 
pageant.  I  see  in  imagination  the  Catholic  sov 
ereigns  prostrating  themselves  before  the  altar, 
and  pouring  forth  thanks  for  their  victory ;  while 
the  vaults  resound  with  sacred  minstrelsy  and  the 
deep-toned  Te  Deum. 

"  The  transient  illusion  is  over,  —  the  pageant 
melts  from  the  fancy,  —  monarch,  priest,  and 
warrior  return  into  oblivion  with  the  poor  Mos- 


266  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

lems  over  whom  they  exulted.  The  hall  of  their 
triumph  is  waste  and  desolate.  The  bat  flits 
about  its  twilight  vault,  and  the  owl  hoots  from 
the  neighboring  tower  of  Comares." 

It  is  a  Moslem  tradition  that  the  court 
and  army  of  Boabdil,  the  Unfortunate,  the 
last  Moorish  King  of  Granada,  are  shut  up 
in  the  mountain  by  a  powerful  enchant 
ment,  and  that  it  is  written  in  the  book  of 
fate  that  when  the  enchantment  is  broken, 
Boabdil  will  descend  from  the  mountain  at 
the  head  of  his  army,  resume  his  throne  in 
the  Alhambra,  and  gathering  together  the 
enchanted  warriors  from  all  parts  of  Spain, 
reconquer  the  Peninsula.  Nothing  in  this 
volume  is  more  amusing  and  at  the  same 
time  more  poetic  and  romantic  than  the 
story  of  "  Governor  Manco  and  the  Soldier," 
in  which  this  legend  is  used  to  cover  the 
exploit  of  a  dare-devil  contrabandista.  But 
it  is  too  long  to  quote.  I  take,  therefore, 
another  story,  which  has  something  of  the 
same  elements,  that  of  a  merry,  mendicant 
student  of  Salamanca,  Don  Vicente  by 
name,  who  wandered  from  village  to  village, 
and  picked  up  a  living  by  playing  the  guitar 
for  the  peasants,  among  whom  he  was  sure 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         267 

of  a  hearty  welcome.  In  the  course  of  his 
wandering  he  had  found  a  seal-ring,  having 
for  its  device  the  cabalistic  sign,  invented 
by  King  Solomon  the  Wise,  and  of  mighty 
power  in  all  cases  of  enchantment. 

"  At  length  he  arrived  at  the  great  object  of  his 
musical  vagabondizing,  the  far-famed  city  of 
Granada,  and  hailed  with  wonder  and  delight  its 
Moorish  towers,  its  lovely  vega,  and  its  snowy 
mountains  glistening  through  a  summer  atmos 
phere.  It  is  needless  to  say  with  what  eager 
curiosity  he  entered  its  gates  and  wandered 
through  its  streets,  and  gazed  upon  its  Oriental 
monuments.  Every  female  face  peering  through 
a  window  or  beaming  from  a  balcony  was  to  him 
a  Zorayda  or  a  Zeliuda,  nor  could  he  meet  a 
stately  dame  on  the  Alameda  but  he  was  ready 
to  fancy  her  a  Moorish  princess,  and  to  spread 
his  student's  robe  beneath  her  feet. 

"  His  musical  talent,  his  happy  humor,  his  youth 
and  his  good  looks,  won  him  a  universal  welcome 
in  spite  of  his  ragged  robes,  and  for  several  days 
he  led  a  gay  life  in  the  old  Moorish  capital  and 
its  environs.  One  of  his  occasional  haunts  was 
the  fountain  of  Avellanos,  in  the  valley  of  Darro. 
It  is  one  of  the  popular  resorts  of  Granada,  and 
has  been  so  since  the  days  of  the  Moors ;  and 
here  the  student  had  an  opportunity  of  pursuing 


268  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

his  studies  of  female  beauty ;  a  branch  of  study 
to  which  he  was  a  little  prone. 

"  Here  he  would  take  his  seat  with  his  guitar, 
improvise  love-ditties  to  admiring  groups  of  ma- 
jos  and  majas,  or  prompt  with  his  music  the  ever- 
ready  dance.  He  was  thus  engaged  one  evening 
when  he  beheld  a  padre  of  the  church  advancing, 
at  whose  approach  every  one  touched  the  hat. 
He  was  evidently  a  man  of  consequence  ;  he  cer 
tainly  was  a  mirror  of  good  if  not  of  holy  liv 
ing  ;  robust  and  rosy-faced,  and  breathing  at 
every  pore  with  the  warmth  of  the  weather  and 
the  exercise  of  the  walk.  As  he  passed  along 
he  would  every  now  and  then  draw  a  maravedi 
out  of  his  pocket  and  bestow  it  on  a  beggar,  with 
an  air  of  signal  beneficence.  'Ah,  the  blessed 
father ! '  would  be  the  cry ;  l  long  life  to  him, 
and  may  he  soon  be  a  bishop  ! ' 

"  To  aid  his  steps  in  ascending  the  hill  he  leaned 
gently  now  and  then  on  the  arm  of  a  handmaid, 
evidently  the  pet-lamb  of  this  kindest  of  pastors. 
Ah,  such  a  damsel  1  Andalus  from  head  to  foot; 
from  the  rose  in  her  hair,  to  the  fairy  shoe  and 
lacework  stocking  ;  Andalus  in  every  movement ; 
in  every  undulation  of  the  body :  —  ripe,  melt 
ing  Andalus !  But  then  so  modest !  —  so  shy  ! 
—  ever,  with  downcast  eyes,  listening  to  the 
words  of  the  padre ;  or,  if  by  chance  she  let 
flash  a  side  glance,  it  was  suddenly  checked  and 
her  eyes  once  more  cast  to  the  ground. 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.        269 

tl  The  good  padre  looked  benignantly  on  the 
company  about  the  fountain,  and  took  his  seat 
with  some  emphasis  on  a  stone  bench,  while  the 
handmaid  hastened  to  bring  him  a  glass  of  spark 
ling  water.  He  sipped  it  deliberately  and  with 
a  relish,  tempering  it  with  one  of  those  spongy 
pieces  of  frosted  eggs  and  sugar  so  dear  to  Span 
ish  epicures,  and  on  returning  the  glass  to  the 
hand  of  the  damsel  pinched  her  cheek  with  in 
finite  loving-kindness. 

" '  Ah,  the  good  pastor ! '  whispered  the  stu 
dent  to  himself  ;  i  what  a  happiness  would  it  be 
to  be  gathered  into  his  fold  with  such  a  pet-lamb 
for  a  companion ! ' 

"  But  no  such  good  fare  was  likely  to  befall  him. 
In  vain  he  essayed  those  powers  of  pleasing 
which  he  had  found  so  irresistible  with  country 
curates  and  country  lasses.  Never  had  he  touched 
his  guitar  with  such  skill ;  never  had  he  poured 
forth  more  soul-moving  ditties,  but  he  had  no 
longer  a  country  curate  or  country  lass  to  deal 
with.  The  worthy  priest  evidently  did  not  rel 
ish  music,  and  the  modest  damsel  never  raised 
her  eyes  from  the  ground.  They  remained  but 
a  short  time  at  the  fountain  ;  the  good  padre  has 
tened  their  return  to  Granada.  The  damsel  gave 
the  student  one  shy  glance  in  retiring ;  but  it 
plucked  the  heart  out  of  his  bosom  ! 

"  He  inquired  about  them  after  they  had  gone. 


270  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

Padre  Tomas  was  one  of  the  saints  of  Granada, 
a  model  of  regularity ;  punctual  in  his  hour  o| 
rising ;  his  hour  of  taking  a  paseo  for  an  appe^ 
tite  ;  his  hours  of  eating  ;  his  hour  of  taking  hig 
siesta ;  his  hour  of  playing  his  game  of  tresillo, 
of  an  evening,  with  some  of  the  dames  of  the 
cathedral  circle ;  his  hour  of  supping,  and  his 
hour  of  retiring  to  rest,  to  gather  fresh  strength 
for  another  day's  round  of  similar  duties.  He 
had  an  easy  sleek  mule  for  his  riding  ;  a  matronly 
housekeeper  skilled  in  preparing  tidbits  for  his 
table  ;  and  the  pet-lamb,  to  smooth  his  pillow  at 
night  and  bring  him  his  chocolate  in  the  morn 
ing. 

"  Adieu  now  to  the  gay,  thoughtless  life  of  the 
student ;  the  side-glance  of  a  bright  eye  had  been 
the  undoing  of  him.  Day  and  night  he  could 
not  get  the  image  of  this  most  modest  damsel  out 
of  his  mind.  He  sought  the  mansion  of  the  pa 
dre.  Alas !  it  was  above  the  class  of  houses  ac 
cessible  to  a  strolling  student  like  himself.  The 
worthy  padre  had  no  sympathy  with  him ;  he 
had  never  been  Estudiante  sopista,  obliged  to  sing 
for  his  supper.  He  blockaded  the  house  by  day, 
catching  a  glance  of  the  damsel  now  and  then  as 
she  appeared  at'a  casement;  but  these  glances 
only  fed  his  flame  without  encouraging  his  hope. 
He  serenaded  her  balcony  at  night,  arid  at  one 
time  was  flattered  by  the  appearance  of  some- 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         271 

thing  white  at  a  window.  Alas,  it  was  only  the 
night-cap  of  the  padre. 

"  Never  was  lover  more  devoted ;  never  damsel 
more  shy  :  the  poor  student  was  reduced  to  de 
spair.  At  length  arrived  the  eve  of  St.  John, 
when  the  lower  classes  of  Granada  swarm  into 
the  country,  dance  away  the  afternoon,  and  pass 
midsummer's  night  on  the  banks  of  the  Darro 
and  the  Xenil.  Happy  are  they  who  on  this 
eventful  night  can  wash  their  faces  in  those 
waters  just  as  the  cathedral  bell  tells  midnight ; 
for  at  that  precise  moment  they  have  a  beautify 
ing  power.  The  student,  having  nothing  to  do, 
suffered  himself  to  be  carried  away  by  the  holi 
day-seeking  throng  until  he  found  himself  in  the 
narrow  valley  of  the  Darro,  below  the  lofty  hill 
and  ruddy  towers  of  the  Alhambra.  The  dry 
bed  of  the  river ;  the  rocks  which  border  it ;  the 
terraced  gardens  which  overhang  it,  were  alive 
with  variegated  groups,  dancing  under  the  vines 
and  fig-trees  to  the  sound  of  the  guitar  and  cas 
tanets. 

"  The  student  remained  for  some  time  in  dole 
ful  dumps,  leaning  against  one  of  the  huge  mis 
shapen  stone  pomegranates  which  adorn  the  ends 
of  the  little  bridge  over  the  Darro.  He  cast 
a  wistful  glance  upon  the  merry  scene,  where 
every  cavalier  had  his  dame ;  or,  to  speak  more 
appropriately,  every  Jack  his  Jill ;  sighed  at  his 


272  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

own  solitary  state,  a  victim  to  the  black  eye  of 
the  most  unapproachable  of  damsels,  and  repined 
at  his  ragged  garb,  which  seemed  to  shut  the  gate 
of  hope  against  him. 

"  By  degrees  his  attention  was  attracted  to 
a  neighbor  equally  solitary  with  himself.  This 
was  a  tall  soldier,  of  a  stern  aspect  and  grizzled 
beard,  who  seemed  posted  as  a  sentry  at  the  op 
posite  pomegranate.  His  face  was  bronzed  by 
time ;  he  was  arrayed  in  ancient  Spanish  armor, 
with  buckler  and  lance,  and  stood  immovable  as 
a  statue.  What  surprised  the  student  was,  that 
though  thus  strangely  equipped,  he  was  totally 
unnoticed  by  the  passing  throng,  albeit  that  many 
almost  brushed  against  him. 

" '  This  is  a  city  of  old  time  peculiarities,' 
thought  the  student,  'and  doubtless  this  is  one 
of  them  with  which  the  inhabitants  are  too  fa 
miliar  to  be  surprised.'  His  own  curiosity,  how 
ever,  was  awakened,  and  being  of  a  social  dis 
position,  he  accosted  the  soldier. 

"  *  A  rare  old  suit  of  armor  that  which  you 
wear,  comrade.  May  I  ask  what  corps  you  be 
long  to?' 

"  The  soldier  gasped  out  a  reply  from  a  pair  of 
jaws  which  seemed  to  have  rusted  on  their 
hinges. 

"  '  The  royal  guard  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.' 

"  '  Santa  Maria  !  Why,  it  is  three  centuries 
since  that  corps  was  in  service.' 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.        273 

"  *  And  for  three  centuries  have  I  been  mount 
ing  guard.  Now  I  trust  my  tour  of  duty  draws 
to  a  close.  Dost  thou  desire  fortune  ? ' 

"The  student  held  up  his  tattered  cloak  in 
reply. 

"  *  I  understand  thee.  If  thou  hast  faith  and 
courage,  follow  me,  and  thy  fortune  is  made.' 

"  *  Softly,  comrade,  to  follow  thee  would  require 
small  courage  in  one  who  has  nothing  to  lose  but 
life  and  an  old  guitar,  neither  of  much  value ; 
but  my  faith  is  of  a  different  matter,  and  not  to 
be  put  in  temptation.  If  it  be  any  criminal  act 
by  which  I  am  to  mend  my  fortune,  think  not  my 
ragged  cloak  will  make  me  undertake  it.' 

"The  soldier  turned  on  him  a  look  of  high 
displeasure.  *  My  sword,'  said  he,  '  has  never 
been  drawn  but  in  the  cause  of  the  faith  and  the 
throne.  I  am  a  Gristiano  viejo  ;  trust  in  me  and 
fear  no  evil.' 

"  The  student  followed  him  wondering.  He  ob 
served  that  no  one  heeded  their  conversation,  and 
that  the  soldier  made  his  way  through  the  vari 
ous  groups  of  idlers  unnoticed,  as  if  invisible. 

"  Crossing  the  bridge,  the  soldier  led  the  way 
by  a  narrow  and  steep  path  past  a  Moorish  mill 
and  aqueduct,  and  up  the  ravine  which  separates 
the  domains  of  the  Generalife  from  those  of  the 
Alhambra.  The  last  ray  of  the  sun  shone  upon 
the  red  battlements  of  the  latter,  which  beetled 
18 


274  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

far  above ;  and  the  convent-bells  were  proclaim 
ing  the  festival  of  the  ensuing  day.  The  ravine 
was  overshadowed  by  fig-trees,  vines,  and  myr 
tles,  and  the  outer  towers  and  walls  of  the  for 
tress.  It  was  dark  and  lonely,  and  the  twilight- 
loving  bats  began  to  flit  about.  At  length  the 
soldier  halted  at  a  remote  and  ruined  tower  ap 
parently  intended  to  guard  a  Moorish  aqueduct. 
He  struck  the  foundation  with  the  butt-end  of  his 
spear.  A  rumbling  sound  was  heard,  and  the 
solid  stones  yawned  apart,  leaving  an  opening  as 
wide  as  a  door. 

"  '  Enter  in  the  name  of  the  Holy  Trinity, 
said  the  soldier,  'and  fear  nothing.'  The  stu 
dent's  heart  quaked,  but  he  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross,  muttered  his  Ave  Maria,  and  followed  his 
mysterious  guide  into  a  deep  vault  cut  out  of  the 
solid  rock  under  the  tower,  and  covered  with  Ara 
bic  inscriptions.  The  soldier  pointed  to  a  stone 
seat  hewn  along  one  side  of  the  vault.  *  Be 
hold,'  said  he,  'my  couch  for  three  hundred 
years.'  The  bewildered  student  tried  to  force  a 
joke.  *  By  the  blessed  St.  Anthony,'  said  he, 
'but  you  must  have  slept  soundly,  considering 
the  hardness  of  your  couch.' 

"  '  On  the  contrary,  sleep  has  been  a  stranger  to 
these  eyes  ;  incessant  watchfulness  has  been  my 
doom.  Listen  to  my  lot.  I  was  one  of  the 
royal  guards  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella;  but 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         275 

was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Moors  in  one  of  their 
sorties,  and  confined  a  captive  in  this  tower. 
When  preparations  were  made  to  surrender  the 
fortress  to  the  Christian  sovereigns,  I  was  pre 
vailed  upon  by  an  alfaqui,  a  Moorish  priest,  to 
aid  him  in  secreting  some  of  the  treasures  of 
Boabdil  in  this  vault.  I  was  justly  punished  for 
my  fault.  The  alfaqui  was  an  African  necro 
mancer,  and  by  his  infernal  arts  cast  a  spell  upon 
me  —  to  guard  his  treasures.  Something  must 
have  happened  to  him,  for  he  never  returned, 
and  here  have  I  remained  ever  since,  buried 
alive.  Years  and  years  have  rolled  away ;  earth 
quakes  have  shaken  this  hill ;  I  have  heard  stone 
by  stone  of  the  tower  above  tumbling  to  the 
ground,  in  the  natural  operation  of  time;  but 
the  spell-bound  walls  of  this  vault  set  both  time 
and  earthquakes  at  defiance. 

" *  Once  every  hundred  years,  on  the  festival 
of  St.  John,  the  enchantment  ceases  to  have 
thorough  sway  ;  I  am  permitted  to  go  forth  and 
post  myself  upon  the  bridge  of  the  Darro,  where 
you  met  me,  waiting  until  some  one  shall  arrive 
who  may  have  power  to  break  this  magic  spell. 
I  have  hitherto  mounted  guard  there  in  vain. 
I  walk  as  in  a  cloud,  concealed  from  mortal  sight. 
You  are  the  first  to  accost  me  for  now  three  hun 
dred  years.  I  behold  the  reason.  I  see  on 
your  finger  the  seal-ring  of  Solomon  the  Wise, 


276  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

which  is  proof  against  all  enchantment.  With 
you  it  remains  to  deliver  me  from  this  awful 
dungeon,  or  to  leave  me  to  keep  guard  here  for 
another  hundred  years.' 

"  The  student  listened  to  this  tale  in  mute  won 
derment.  He  had  heard  many  tales  of  treasures 
shut  up  under  strong  enchantment  in  the  vaults 
of  the  Alhambra,  but  had  treated  them  as  fables. 
He  now  felt  the  value  of  the  seal-ring,  which 
had,  in  a  manner,  been  given  to  him  by  St.  Cy 
prian.  Still,  though  armed  by  so  potent  a  talis 
man,  it  was  an  awful  thing  to  find  himself  tete-a- 
tete  in  such  a  place  with  an  enchanted  soldier, 
who,  according  to  the  laws  of  nature,  ought  to 
have  been  quietly  in  his  grave  for  nearly  three 
centuries. 

"  A  personage  of  this  kind,  however,  was  quite 
out  of  the  ordinary  run,  and  not  to  be  trifled 
with,  and  he  assured  him  he  might  rely  upon  his 
friendship  and  good  will  to  do  everything  in  his 
power  for  his  deliverance. 

"  '  I  trust  to  a  motive  more  powerful  than 
friendship,'  said  the  soldier. 

"  He  pointed  to  a  ponderous  iron  coffer,  secured 
by  locks  inscribed  with  Arabic  characters.  '  That 
coffer,'  said  he,  '  contains  countless  treasure  in 
gold  and  jewels  and  precious  stones.  Break  the 
magic  spell  by  which  I  am  enthralled,  and  one 
half  of  this  treasure  shall  be  thine.' 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         277 

"  l  But  how  am  I  to  do  it  ?' 

"  *  The  aid  of  a  Christian  priest  and  a  Chris 
tian  maid  is  necessary.  The  priest  to  exorcise 
the  powers  of  darkness ;  the  damsel  to  touch 
this  chest  with  the  seal  of  Solomon.  This  must 
be  done  at  night.  But  have  a  care.  This  is 
solemn  work,  and  not  to  be  effected  by  the  car 
nal-minded.  The  priest  must  be  a  Cristiano 
viejOj  a  model  of  sanctity ;  and  must  mortify  the 
flesh  before  he  comes  here,  by  a  rigorous  fast  of 
four-and-twenty  hours :  and  as  to  the  maiden,  she 
must  be  above  reproach,  and  proof  against  temp 
tation.  Linger  not  in  finding  such  aid.  In  three 
days  my  furlough  is  at  an  end ;  if  not  delivered 
before  midnight  of  the  third,  I  shall  have  to 
mount  guard  for  another  century.' 

" *  Fear  not,'  said  the  student,  f  I  have  in  my 
eye  the  very  priest  and  damsel  you  describe  ;  but 
how  am  I  to  regain  admission  to  this  tower  ? ' 

"  <  The  seal  of  Solomon  will  open  the  way  for 
thee.' 

"  The  student  issued  forth  from  the  tower  much 
more  gayly  than  he  had  entered.  The  wall 
closed  behind  him,  and  remained  solid  as  before. 

"  The  next  morning  he  repaired  boldly  to  the 
mansion  of  the  priest,  no  longer  a  poor  strolling 
student,  thrumming  his  way  with  a  guitar ;  but 
an  ambassador  from  the  shadowy  world,  with  en 
chanted  treasures  to  bestow.  No  particulars  are 


278  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

told  of  his  negotiation,  excepting  that  the  zeal 
of  the  worthy  priest  was  easily  kindled  at  the 
idea  of  rescuing  an  old  soldier  of  the  faith  and 
a  strong  box  of  King  Chico  from  the  very 
clutches  of  Satan  ;  and  then  what  alms  might  be 
dispensed,  what  churches  built,  and  how  many 
poor  relatives  enriched  with  the  Moorish  treas 
ure ! 

"  As  to  the  immaculate  handmaid,  she  was 
ready  to  lend  her  hand,  which  was  all  that  was 
required,  to  the  pious  work ;  and  if  a  shy  glance 
now  and  then  might  be  believed,  the  ambassador 
began  to  find  favor  in  her  modest  eyes. 

"  The  greatest  difficulty,  however,  was  the  fast 
to  which  the  good  padre  had  to  subject  himself. 
Twice  he  attempted  it,  and  twice  the  flesh  was 
too  strong  for  the  spirit.  It  was  only  on  the 
third  day  that  he  was  enabled  to  withstand  the 
temptations  of  the  cupboard  ;  but  it  was  still  a 
question  whether  he  would  hold  out  until  the 
spell  was  broken. 

"  At  a  late  hour  of  the  night  the  party  groped 
their  way  up  the  ravine  by  the  light  of  a  lantern, 
and  bearing  a  basket  with  provisions  for  exorcis 
ing  the  demon  of  hunger  so  soon  as  the  other 
demons  should  be  laid  in  the  Red  Sea. 

"  The  seal  of  Solomon  opened  their  way  into 
the  tower.  They  found  the  soldier  seated  on  the 
enchanted  strong-box,  awaiting  their  arrival.  The 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.         279 

exorcism  was  performed  in  due  style.  The  dam 
sel  advanced  and  touched  the  locks  of  the  coffer 
with  the  seal  of  Solomon.  The  lid  flew  open ; 
and  such  treasures  of  gold  and  jewels  and  pre 
cious  stones  as  flashed  upon  the  eye  ! 

"  *  Here 's  cut  and  come  again  ! '  cried  the  stu 
dent,  exultingly,  as  he  proceeded  to  cram  his 
pockets. 

" '  Fairly  and  softly/  exclaimed  the  soldier. 
*  Let  us  get  the  coffer  out  entire,  and  then  di 
vide.' 

"  They  accordingly  went  to  work  with  might 
and  main  ;  but  it  was  a  difficult  task  ;  the  chest 
was  enormously  heavy,  and  had  been  imbedded 
there  for  centuries.  While  they  were  thus  em 
ployed  the  good  dominie  drew  on  one  side  and 
made  a  vigorous  onslaught  on  the  basket,  by  way 
of  exorcising  the  demon  of  hunger  which  was  rag 
ing  in  his  entrails.  In  a  little  while  a  fat  capon 
was  devoured,  and  washed  down  by  a  deep  pota 
tion  of  Val  de  penas ;  and,  by  way  of  grace  after 
meat,  he  gave  a  kind-hearted  kiss  to  the  pet-lamb 
who  waited  on  him.  It  was  quietly  done  in  a 
corner,  but  the  tell-tale  walls  babbled  it  forth  as  if 
in  triumph.  Never  was  chaste  salute  more  awful 
in  its  effects.  At  the  sound  the  soldier  gave  a 
great  cry  of  despair  ;  the  coffer,  which  was  half 
raised,  fell  back  in  its  place  and  was  locked  once 
more.  Priest,  student,  and  damsel  found  them- 


280  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

selves  outside  of  the  tower,  the  wall  of  which 
closed  with  a  thundering  jar.  Alas !  the  good 
padre  had  broken  his  fast  too  soon  ! 

"  When  recovered  from  his  surprise,  the  student 
would  have  reentered  the  tower,  but  learnt  to  his 
dismay  that  the  damsel,  in  her  fright,  had  let  fall 
the  seal  of  Solomon  ;  it  remained  within  the 
vault. 

"  In  a  word,  the  cathedral  bell  tolled  midnight ; 
the  spell  was  renewed ;  the  soldier  was  doomed 
to  mount  guard  for  another  hundred  years,  and 
there  he  arid  the  treasure  remain  to  this  day  — 
and  all  because  the  kind-hearted  padre  kissed  his 
handmaid.  '  Ah,  father !  father  ! '  said  the  stu 
dent,  shaking  his  head  ruefully,  as  they  returned 
down  the  ravine,  '  I  fear  there  was  less  of  the 
saint  than  the  sinner  in  that  kiss  ! ' 

"  Thus  ends  the  legend  as  far  as  it  has  been  au 
thenticated.  There  is  a  tradition,  however,  that 
the  student  had  brought  off  treasure  enough  in 
his  pocket  to  set  him  up  in  the  world ;  that  he 
prospered  in  his  affairs,  that  the  worthy  padre 
gave  him  the  pet-lamb  in  marriage,  by  way  of 
amends  for  the  blunder  in  the  vault ;  that  the 
immaculate  damsel  proved  a  pattern  for  wives 
as  she  had  been  for  handmaids,  and  bore  her  hus 
band  a  numerous  progeny ;  that  the  first  was  a 
wonder ;  it  was  born  seven  months  after  her  mar- 


THE  CHARACTERISTIC   WORKS.        281 

riage,  and  though  a  seven-months'  boy,  was  the 
sturdiest  of  the  flock.  The  rest  were  all  born 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  time. 

"  The  story  of  the  enchanted  soldier  remaini 
one  of  the  popular  traditions  of  Granada,  though 
told  in  a  variety  of  ways  ;  the  common  people 
affirm  that  he  still  mounts  guard  on  mid-summer 
eve,  beside  the  gigantic  stone  pomegranate  on 
the  bridge  of  the  Darro ;  but  remains  invisible 
excepting  to  such  lucky  mortal  as  may  possess 
the  seal  of  Solomon." 

These  passages  from  the  most  character 
istic  of  Irving's  books,  do  not  by  any  means 
exhaust  his  variety,  but  they  afford  a  fair 
measure  of  his  purely  literary  skill,  upon 
which  his  reputation  must  rest.  To  my 
apprehension  this  "  charm  "  in  literature  is 
as  necessary  to  the  amelioration  and  en 
joyment 'of  human  life  as  the  more  solid 
achievements  of  scholarship.  That  Irving 
should  find  it  in  the  prosaic  and  material 
istic  conditions  of  the  New  World  as  well 
as  in  the  tradition-laden  atmosphere  of  the 
Old,  is  evidence  that  he  possessed  genius  of 
a  refined  and  subtle  quality  if  not  of  the 
most  robust  order. 


CHAPTER  X. 

LAST  YEARS  :    THE  CHARACTER  OF  HIS 
LITERATURE. 

THE  last  years  of  living's  life,  although 
fall  of  activity  and  enjoyment,  —  abated 
only  by  the  malady  which  had  so  long  tor 
mented  him,  —  offer  little  new  in  the  de 
velopment  of  his  character,  and  need  not 
much  longer  detain  us.  The  calls  of  friend 
ship  and  of  honor  were  many,  his  corre 
spondence  was  large,  he  made  many  excur 
sions  to  scenes  that  were  filled  with  pleas 
ant  memories,  going  even  as  far  south  as 
Virginia,  and  he  labored  assiduously  at  the 
44  Life  of  Washington,"  —  attracted  how 
ever  now  and  then  by  some  other  tempting 
theme.  But  his  delight  was  in  the  domes 
tic  circle  at  Sunnyside.  It  was  not  possi 
ble  that  his  occasional  melancholy  vein 
should  not  be  deepened  by  change  and 
death  and  the  lengthening  shade  of  old  age. 
Yet  I  do  not  know  the  closing  days  of  any 


LAST   YEARS.  283 

other  author  of  note  that  were  more  cheer 
ful,  serene,  and  happy  than  his.  Of  our 
author,  in  these  latter  days,  Mr.  George 
William  Curtis  put  recently  into  his  "Easy 
Chair  "  papers  an  artistically-touched  little 
portrait :  "  Irving  was  as  quaint  a  figure," 
he  says,  "as  the  Diedrich  Knickerbocker  in 
the  preliminary  advertisement  of  the  '  His 
tory  of  New  York.'  Thirty  years  ago  he 
might  have  been  seen  on  an  autumnal  after 
noon  tripping  with  an  elastic  step  along 
Broadway,  with  'low-quartered '  shoes  neatly 
tied,  and  a  Talma  cloak — a  short  garment 
that  hung  from  the  shoulders  like  the  cape 
of  a  coat.  There  was  a  chirping,  cheery, 
old-school  air  in  his  appearance  which  was 
undeniably  Dutch,  and  most  harmonious 
with  the  associations  of  his  writing.  He 
seemed,  indeed,  to  have  stepped  out  of  his 
own  books  ;  and  the  cordial  grace  and  hu 
mor  of  his  address,  if  he  stopped  for  a  pass 
ing  chat,  were  delightfully  characteristic. 
He  was  then  our  most  famous  man  of  let 
ters,  but  he  was  simply  free  from  all  self- 
consciousness  and  assumption  and  dogma 
tism."  Congenial  occupation  was  one  secret 
of  Irving's  cheerfulness  and  contentment, 


284  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

no  doubt.  And  he  was  called  away  as  soon 
as  his  task  was  done,  very  soon  after  the 
last  volume  of  the  "  Washington  "  issued 
from  the  press.  Yet  he  lived  long  enough 
to  receive  the  hearty  approval  of  it  from 
the  literary  men  whose  familiarity  with  the 
Revolutionary  period  made  them  the  best 
judges  of  its  merits. 

He  had  time  also  to  revise  his  works.  It 
is  perhaps  worthy  of  note  that  for  several 
years,  while  he  was  at  the  height  of  his 
popularity,  his  books  had  very  little  sale. 
From  1842  to  1848  they  were  out  of  print, 
with  the  exception  of  some  stray  copies  of 
a  cheap  Philadelphia  edition,  and  a  Paris 
collection  (a  volume  of  this,  at  my  hand,  is 
one  of  a  series  entitled  a  "  Collection  of 
Ancient  and  Modern  British  Authors"), 
they  were  not  to  be  found.  The  Philadel 
phia  publishers  did  not  think  there  was 
sufficient  demand  to  warrant  a  new  edition. 
Mr.  Irving  and  his  friends  judged  the  mar 
ket  more  wisely,  and  a  young  New  York 
publisher  offered  to  assume  the  responsibil 
ity.  This  was  Mr.  George  P.  Putnam. 
The  event  justified  his  sagacity  and  his  lib 
eral  enterprise ;  from  July,  1848,  to  Novem- 


CHARACTER  OF  HIS  LITERATURE.     285 

ber,  1859,  the  author  received  on  his  copy 
right  over  eighty-eight  thousand  dollars. 
And  it  should  be  added  that  the  relations 
between  author  and  publisher,  both  in  pros 
perity  and  in  times  of  business  disaster,  re 
flect  the  highest  credit  upon  both.  If  the 
like  relations  always  obtained  we  should 
not  have  to  say  :  "  May  the  Lord  pity  the 
authors  in  this  world,  and  the  publishers  in 
the  next." 

I  have  outlined  the  life  of  Washington  Ir 
ving  in  vain,  if  we  have  not  already  come  to 
a  tolerably  clear  conception  of  the  character 
of  the  man  and  of  his  books.  If  I  were  ex 
actly  to  follow  his  literary  method  I  should 
do  nothing  more.  The  idiosyncrasies  of 
the  man  are  the  strength  and  weakness  of 
his  works.  I  do  not  know  any  other  author 
whose  writings  so  perfectly  reproduce  his 
character,  or  whose  character  may  be  more 
certainly  measured  by  his  writings.  His 
character  is  perfectly  transparent :  his  pre 
dominant  traits  were  humor  and  sentiment ; 
his  temperament  was  gay  with  a  dash  of 
melancholy ;  his  inner  life  and  his  mental 
operations  were  the  reverse  of  complex,  and 


286  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

his  literary  method  is  simple.  Hefelt  his 
subject,  and  he  expressed  his  conception 
not  so  much  by  direct  statement  or  descrip 
tion  as  by  almost  imperceptible  touches 
and  shadings  here  and  there,  by  a  diffused 
tone  and  color,  with  very  little  show  of  anal 
ysis.  Perhaps  it  is  a  sufficient  definition 
to  say  that  his  method  was  the  sympa 
thetic.  In  the  end  the  reader  is  put  in  pos 
session  of  the  luminous  and  complete  idea 
upon  which  the  author  has  been  brooding, 
though  he  may  not  be  able  to  say  exactly 
how  the  impression  has  been  conveyed  to 
him  ;  and  I  doubt  if  the  author  could  have 
explained  his  sympathetic  process.  He  cer 
tainly  would  have  lacked  precision  in  any 
philosophical  or  metaphysical  theme,  and 
when,  in  his  letters,  he  touches  upon  politics 
there  is  a  little  vagueness  of  definition  that 
indicates  want  of  mental  grip  in  that  direc 
tion.  But  in  the  region  of  feeling  his  genius 
is  sufficient  to  his  purpose ;  either  when 
that  purpose  is  a  highly  creative  one,  as  in 
the  character  and  achievements  of  his  Dutch 
heroes,  or  merely  that  of  portraiture,  as  in 
the  "Columbus"  and  the  "Washington." 
The  analysis  of  a  nature  so  simple  and  a 


CHARACTER    OF  II1S  LITERATURE.     287 

character  so  transparent  as  Irving's,  who 
lived  in  the  sunlight  and  had  no  envelope 
of  mystery,  has  not  the  fascination  that  at 
taches  to  Hawthorne. 

Although  the  direction  of  his  work  as  a 
man  of  letters  was  largely  determined  by 
his  early  surroundings,  —  that  is,  by  his 
birth  in  a  land  void  of  traditions,  and  into 
a  society  without  much  literary  life,  so  that 
his  intellectual  food  was  of  necessity  a  for 
eign  literature  that  was  at  the  moment  be 
coming  a  little  antiquated  in  the  land  of  its 
birth,  and  his  warm  imagination  was  forced 
to  revert  to  the  past  for  that  nourishment 
which  his  crude  environment  did  not  offer, — 
yet  he  was  by  nature  a  retrospective  man. 
His  face  was  set  towards  the  past,  not  tow 
ards  the  future.  He  never  caught  the  rest 
lessness  of  this  century,  nor  the  prophetic 
light  that  shone  in  the  faces  of  Coleridge, 
Shelley,  and  Keats  ;  if  he  apprehended  the 
stir  of  the  new  spirit  he  still,  by  mental 
affiliation,  belonged  rather  to  the  age  of 
Addison  than  to  that  of  Macaulay.  And 
his  placid,  retrospective,  optimistic  strain 
pleased  a  public  that  were  excited  and  har 
rowed  by  the  mocking  and  lamenting  of 


288  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

Lord  Byron,  and,  singularly  enough,  pleased 
even  the  great  pessimist  himself. 

His  writings  induce  to  reflection,  to  quiet 
musing,  to  tenderness  for  tradition ;  they 
amuse,  they  entertain,  they  call  a  check  to 
the  feverishness  of  modern  life  ;  but  they 
are  rarely  stimulating  or  suggestive.  They 
are  better  adapted,  it  must  be  owned,  to 
please  the  many  than  the  critical  few,  who 
demand  more  incisive  treatment  and  a  deeper 
consideration  of  the  problems  of  life.  And 
it  is  very  fortunate  that  a  writer  who  can 
reach  the  great  public  and  entertain  it  can 
also  elevate  and  refine  its  tastes,  set  before 
it  high  ideas,  instruct  it  agreeably,  and  all 
this  in  a  style  that  belongs  to  the  best  liter 
ature.  It  is  a  safe  model  for  young  read 
ers  ;  and  for  young  readers  there  is  very 
little  in  the  overwhelming  flood  of  to-day 
that  is  comparable  to  Irving's  books,  and, 
especially,  it  seems  to  me,  because  they 
were  not  written  for  children. 

Irving's  position  in  American  literature, 
or  in  that  of  the  English  tongue,  will  only 
be  determined  by  the  slow  settling  of  opin 
ion,  which  no  critic  can  foretell,  and  the 
operation  of  which  no  criticism  seems  able 


CHARACTER  OF  HIS  LITERATURE.     289 

to  explain.  I  venture  to  believe,  however, 
that  the  verdict  will  not  be  in  accord  with 
much  of  the  present  prevalent  criticism. 
The  service  that  he  rendered  to  American 
letters  no  critic  disputes ;  nor  is  there  any 
question  of  our  national  indebtedness  to  him 
for  investing  a  crude  and  new  land  with  the 
enduring  charms  of  romance  and  tradition. 
In  this  respect,  our  obligation  to  him  is  that 
of  Scotland  to  Scott  and  Burns ;  and  it  is 
an  obligation  due  only,  in  all  history,  to 
here  and  there  a  fortunate  creator  to  whose 
genius  opportunity  is  kind.  The  Knicker 
bocker  Legend  and  the  romance  with  which 
Irving  has  invested  the  Hudson  are  a  price 
less  legacy  ;  and  this  would  remain  an  im 
perishable  possession  in  popular  tradition 
if  the  literature  creating  it  were  destroyed. 
This  sort  of  creation  is  unique  in  modern 
times.  New  York  is  the  Knickerbocker 
city ;  its  whole  social  life  remains  colored  by 
his  fiction ;  and  the  romantic  background  it 
owes  to  him  in  some  measure  supplies  to  it 
what  great  age  has  given  to  European  cities. 
This  creation  is  sufficient  to  secure  for  him 
an  immortality,  a  length  of  earthly  remem- 

19 


290  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

brance  that  all  the  rest  of  his  writings  to 
gether  might  not  give. 

Irving  was  always  the  literary  man ;  he 
had  the  habits,  the  idiosyncrasies,  of  his 
small  genus.  I  mean  that  he  regarded  life 
not  from  the  philanthropic,  the  economic, 
the  political,  the  philosophic,  the  metaphysic, 
the  scientific,  or  the  theologic,  but  purely 
from  the  literary  point  of  view.  He  belongs 
to  that  small  class  of  which  Johnson  and 
Goldsmith  are  perhaps  as  good  types  as 
any,  and  to  which  America  has  added  very 
few.  The  literary  point  of  view  is  taken 
by  few  in  any  generation ;  it  may  seem  to 
the  world  of  very  little  consequence  in  the 
pressure  of  all  the  complex  interests  of  life, 
and  it  may  even  seem  trivial  amid  the 
tremendous  energies  applied  to  immediate 
affairs  ;  but  it  is  the  point  of  view  that  en 
dures  ;  if  its  creations  do  not  mould  human 
life,  like  the  Roman  law,  they  remain  to 
charm  and  civilize,  like  the  poems  of  Horace. 
You  must  not  ask  more  of  them  than  that. 
This  attitude  toward  life  is  defensible  on 
the  highest  grounds.  A  man  with  Irving's 
gifts  has  the  right  to  take  the  position  of  an 
observer  and  describer,  and  not  to  be  called 


CHARACTER  OF  HIS  LITERATURE.     291 

on  for  a  more  active  participation  in  affairs 
than  he  chooses  to  take.  He  is  doing  the 
world  the  highest  service  of  which  he  is 
capable,  and  the  most  enduring  it  can  re 
ceive  from  any  man.  It  is  not  a  question 
whether  the  work  of  the  literary  man  is 
higher  than  that  of  the  reformer  or  the 
statesman  ;  it  is  a  distinct  work,  and  is  jus 
tified  by  the  result,  even  when  the  work  is 
that  of  the  humorist  only.  We  recognize 
this  in  the  case  of  the  poet.  Although 
Goethe  has  been  reproached  for  his  lack  of 
sympathy  with  the  liberalizing  movement 
of  his  day  (as  if  his  novels  were  quieting 
social  influences),  it  is  felt  by  this  genera 
tion  that  the  author  of  "  Faust "  needs  no 
apology  that  he  did  not  spend  his  energies 
in  the  effervescing  politics  of  the  German 
states.  I  mean,  that  while  we  may  like  or 
dislike  the  man  for  his  sympathy  or  want 
of  sympathy,  we  concede  to  the  author  the 
right  of  his  attitude ;  if  Goethe  had  not 
assumed  freedom  from  moral  responsibility, 
I  suppose  that  criticism  of  his  aloofness 
would  long  ago  have  ceased.  Irving  did 
not  lack  sympathy  with  humanity  in  the 
concrete;  it  colored  whatever  he  wrote. 


292  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

But  he  regarded  the  politics  of  his  own 
country,  the  revolutions  in  France,  the  long 
struggle  in  Spain,  without  heat ;  and  he  held 
aloof  from  projects  of  agitation  and  reform, 
and  maintained  the  attitude  of  an  observer, 
regarding  the  life  about  him  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  literary  artist,  as  he  was  jus 
tified  in  doing. 

Irving  had  the  defects  of  his  peculiar 
genius,  and  these  have  no  doubt  helped  to  fix 
upon  him  the  complimentary  disparagement 
of  "  genial."  He  was  not  aggressive ;  in 
his  nature  he  was  wholly  unpartisan,  and 
full  of  lenient  charity ;  and  I  suspect  that 
his  kindly  regard  of  the  world,  although 
returned  with  kindly  liking,  cost  him  some 
thing  of  that  respect  for  sturdiness  and  force 
which  men  feel  for  writers  who  flout  them 
as  fools  in  the  main.  Like  Scott,  he  be 
longed  to  the  idealists,  and  not  to  the  real 
ists,  whom  our  generation  affects.  Both 
writers  stimulate  the  longing  for  something 
better.  Their  creed  was  short :  "  Love  God 
and  honor  the  King."  It  is  a  very  good  one 
for  a  literary  man,  and  might  do  for  a 
Christian.  The  supernatural  was  still  a 
reality  in  the  age  in  which  they  wrote. 


CHARACTER  OF  HIS  LITERATURE.     293 

Irving's  faith  in  God  and  his  love  of  hu 
manity  were  very  simple;  I  do  not  sup 
pose  he  was  much  disturbed  by  the  deep 
problems  that  have  set  us  all  adrift.  In 
every  age,  whatever  is  astir,  literature,  the 
ology,  all  intellectual  activity,  takes  one  and 
the  same  drift,  and  approximates  in  color. 
The  bent  of  Irving's  spirit  was  fixed  in  his 
youth,  and  he  escaped  the  desperate  realism 
of  this  generation,  which  has  no  outcome, 
and  is  likely  to  produce  little  that  is  noble. 
I  do  not  know  how  to  account,  on  prin 
ciples  of  culture  which  we  recognize,  for 
our  author's  style.  His  education  was  ex 
ceedingly  defective,  nor  was  his  want  of 
discipline  supplied  by  subsequent  desultory 
application.  He  seems  to  have  been  born 
with  a  rare  sense  of  literary  proportion  and 
form ;  into  this,  as  into  a  mould,  were  run 
his  apparently  lazy  and  really  acute  obser 
vations  of  life.  That  he  thoroughly  mas 
tered  such  literature  as  he  fancied  there  is 
abundant  evidence ;  that  his  style  was  in 
fluenced  by  the  purest  English  models  is 
also  apparent.  But  there  remains  a  large 
margin  for  wonder  how,  with  his  want  of 
training,  he  could  have  elaborated  a  style 


294  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

which  is  distinctively  his  own,  and   is   as 
copious,  felicitous  in  the  choice   of  words, 
flowing,    spontaneous,    flexible,    engaging, 
clear,  and   as   little  wearisome  when   read 
continuously  in  quantity  as  any  in  the  Eng 
lish  tongue.     This   is  saying  a  great  deal, 
though  it  is  not  claiming  for  him  the  com 
pactness,  nor  the  robust  vigor,  nor  the  depth 
of  thought,  of   many  others  masters  in  it. 
It  is  sometimes  praised  for  its   simplicity. 
It  is  certainly  lucid,  but   its  simplicity  is 
not  that  of  Benjamin  Franklin's  style;  iti 
is  often   ornate,  not  seldom  somewhat  dif 
fuse,  and  always  exceedingly  melodious.    It/ 
is   noticeable  for   its  metaphorical  felicity/ 
But  it  was  not  in  the  sympathetic  nature  of  j 
the  autkor,  to  which  I  just  referred,  to  comej 
sharply  to  the  point.     It  is  much  to  have 
merited   the   eulogy  of  Campbell   that  he 
had  "  added  clarity  to  the  English  tongue." 
This   elegance  and  finish  of  style  (which 
seems  to  have  been  as  natural  to  the  man 
as  his  amiable  manner)  is  sometimes  made 
his  reproach,  as  if   it  were  his  sole  merit, 
and   as   if    he   had    concealed   under   this 
charming  form   a  want   of   substance.     In 
literature  form  is  vital.     But  his  case  does 


CHARACTER  OF  HIS  LITERATURE.     295 

not  rest  upon  that.  As  an  illustration  his 
"  Life  of  Washington  "  may  be  put  in 
evidence.  Probably  this  work  lost  some- 
thing  in  incisiveness  and  brilliancy  by  being 
postponed  till  the  writer's  old  age.  But 
whatever  this  loss,  it  is  impossible  for  any 
biography  to  be  less  pretentious  in  style,  or 
less  ambitious  in  proclamation.  The  only 
pretension  of  matter  is  in  the  early  chapters, 
in  which  a  more  than  doubtful  genealogy  is 
elaborated,  and  in  which  it  is  thought  nec 
essary  to  Washington's  dignity  to  give  a 
fictitious  importance  to  his  family  and  his 
childhood,  and  to  accept  the  southern  esti 
mate  of  the  hut  in  which  he  was  born  as  a 
"  mansion."  In  much  of  this  false  estimate 
Irving  was  doubtless  misled  by  the  fables 
of  Weems.  But  while  he  has  given  us  a 
dignified  portrait  of  Washington,  it  is  as  far 
as  possible  removed  from  that  of  the  smile- 
less  prig  which  has  begun  to  weary  even  the 
popular  fancy.  The  man  he  paints  Is  flesh 
and  blood,  presented,  I  believe,  with  sub 
stantial  faithfulness  to  his  character  ;  with  a 
recognition  of  the  defects  of  his  education 
and  the  deliberation  of  his  mental  opera 
tions  ;  with  at  least  a  hint  of  that  want  of 


296  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

breadth   of   culture  and  knowledge  of  the 
past,  the  possession  of  which  characterized 
many  of  his  great  associates ;  and  with  no 
concealment  that  he  had  a  dower  of   pas 
sions   and  a  temper   which  only   vigorous 
self- watchfulness  kept  under.     But  he  por 
trays,  with  an  admiration  not  too   highly 
colored,  the  magnificent  patience,  the  cour 
age  to  bear  misconstruction,  the  unfailing 
patriotism,  the  practical  sagacity,  the  level 
balance   of   judgment   combined  with   the 
wisest  toleration,  the  dignity  of  mind,  and 
the  lofty  moral  nature  which  made  him  the 
great  man  of  his  epoch.     Irving's  grasp  of 
this  character  ;  his  lucid  marshaling  of  the 
scattered,  often  wearisome  and  uninterest 
ing  details  of  our  dragging,  unpicturesque 
Revolutionary  War;  his  just  judgment  of 
men;  his  even,  almost  judicial,  moderation 
of   tone  ;  and  his   admirable  proportion  of 
space  to  events,  render  the  discussion  of  style 
in  reference  to  this  work  superfluous.     An 
other  writer  might  have  made  a  more  brill 
iant  performance :  descriptions  sparkling  with 
antitheses,  characters  projected  into  startling 
attitudes  by  the   use   of  epithets  ;  a  work 
more  exciting  and  more  piquant,  that  would 


CHARACTER  OF  HIS  LITERATURE.    297 

have  started  a  thousand  controversies,  and 
engaged  the  attention  by  daring  conjectures 
and  attempts  to  make  a  dramatic  spectacle  ; 
a  book  interesting  and  notable,  but  false  in 
philosophy  and  untrue  in  fact. 

When  the  "  Sketch-Book  "  appeared,  an 
English  critic  said  it  should  have  been  first 
published  in  England,  for  Irving  was  an 
English  writer.  The  idea  has  been  more 
than  once  echoed  here.  The  truth  is  that 
while  Irving  was  intensely  American  in 
feeling  he  was  first  of  all  a  man  of  letters, 
and  in  that  capacity  he  was  cosmopolitan  ; 
he  certainly  was  not  insular.  He  had  a* 
rare  accommodation  of  tone  to  his  themej 
Of  England,  whose  traditions  kindled  his 
susceptible  fancy,  he  wrote  as  Englishmen 
would  like  to  write  about  it.  In  Spain  ho 
was  saturated  with  the  romantic  story  of 
the  people  and  the  fascination  of  the  clime  ; 
and  he  was  so  true  an  interpreter  of  both 
as  to  earn  from  the  Spaniards  the  title  of 
"  the  poet  Irving."  I  chanced  once,  in  an 
inn  at  Frascati,  to  take  up  "  The  Tales  of 
a  Traveller,"  which  I  had  not  seen  for  many 
years.  I  expected  to  revive  the  somewhat 
faded  humor  and  fancy  of  the  past  genera- 


298  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

tion.  But  I  found  not  only  a  sprightly 
humor  and  vivacity  which  are  modern,  but 
a  truth  to  Italian  local  color  that  is  very 
rare  in  any  writer  foreign  to  the  soil.  As 
to  America,  I  do  not  know  what  can  be 
more  characteristically  American  than  the 
Knickerbocker,  the  Hudson  River  tales,  the 
sketches  of  life  and  adventure  in  the  far 
West.  But  underneath  all  this  diversity 
there  is  one  constant  quality,  —  the  flavor 
of  the  author.  Open  by  chance  and  read 
almost  anywhere  in  his  score  of  books,  —  it 
may  be  the  "  Tour  on  the  Prairies,"  the  fa 
miliar  dream  of  the  Alhambra,  or  the  nar 
ratives  of  the  brilliant  exploits  of  New 
World  explorers  ;  surrender  yourself  to  the 
flowing  current  of  his  transparent  style,  and 
you  are  conscious  of  a  beguilement  which  is 
the  crowning  excellence  of  all  lighter  lit 
erature,  for  which  we  have  no  word  but 
"  charm." 

The  consensus  of  opinion  about  Irving  in 
England  and  America  for  thirty  years  was 
very  remarkable.  He  had  a  universal  pop 
ularity  rarely  enjoyed  by  any  writer.  Eng 
land  returned  him  to  America  medalled  by 
the  king,  honored  by  the  university  which 


CHARACTER   OF  HIS  LITERATURE.     299 

is  chary  of  its  favors,  followed  by  the  ap 
plause  of  the  whole  English  people.  In 
English  households,  in  drawing-rooms  of 
the  metropolis  in  political  circles  no  less 
than  among  the  literary  coteries,  in  the 
best  reviews,  and  in  the  popular  newspapers 
the  opinion  of  him  was  pretty  much  the 
same.  And  even  in  the  lapse  of  time  and 
the  change  of  literary  fashion  authors  so 
unlike  as  Byron  and  Dickens  were  equally 
warm  in  admiration  of  him.  To  the  English 
indorsement  America  added  her  own  enthu 
siasm,  which  was  as  universal.  His  readers 
were  the  million,  and  all  his  readers  were 
admirers.  Even  American  statesmen,  who 
feed  their  minds  on  food  we  know  not  of, 
read  Irving.  It  is  true  that  the  uncritical 
opinion  of  New  York  was  never  exactly  re 
echoed  in  the  cool  recesses  of  Boston  cult 
ure  ;  but  the  magnates  of  the  u  North 
American  Review"  gave  him  their  meed  of 
cordial  praise.  The  country  at  large  put 
him  on  a  pinnacle.  If  you  attempt  to  ac 
count  for  the  position  he  occupied  by  his 
character,  which  won  the  love  of  all  men,  it 
must  be  remembered  that  the  quality  which 
won  this,  whatever  its  value,  pervades  his 
books  also. 


300  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

And  yet  it  must  be  said  that  the  total 
impression  left  upon  the  mind  by  the  man 
and  his  works  is  not  that  of  the  greatest 
intellectual  force.  I  have  no  doubt  that 
this  was  the  impression  he  made  upon  his 
ablest  contemporaries.  And  this  fact,  when 
I  consider  the  effect  the  man  produced, 
makes  the  study  of  him  all  the  more  inter 
esting.  As  an  intellectual  personality  he 
makes  no  such  impression,  for  instance,  as 
Carlyle,  or  a  dozen  other  writers  now  living 
who  could  be  named.  The  incisive  critical 
faculty  was  almost  entirely  wanting  in  him. 
He  had  neither  the  power  nor  the  disposi 
tion  to  cut  his  way  transversely  across  pop-, 
ular  opinion  and  prejudice  that  Ruskin  has, 
nor  to  draw  around  him  disciples  equally 
well  pleased  to  see  him  fiercely  demolish  to 
day  what  they  had  delighted  to  see  him  set 
up  yesterday  as  eternal.  He  evoked  neither 
violent  partisanship  nor  violent  opposition. 
He  was  an  extremely  sensitive  man,  and  if 
he  had  been  capable  of  creating  a  conflict 
he  would  only  have  been  miserable  in  it. 
The  play  of  his  mind  depended  upon  the 
sunshine  of  approval.  And  all  this  shows 
a  certain  want  of  intellectual  virility. 


CHARACTER   OF  HIS  LITERATURE.     301 

A  recent  anonymous  writer  has  said  that 
most  of  the  writing  of  our  day  is  character 
ized  by  an  intellectual  strain.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  this  will  appear  to  be  the  case 
to  the  next  generation.  It  is  a  strain  to 
say  something  new  even  at  the  risk  of  par 
adox,  or  to  say  something  in  a  new  way 
at  the  risk  of  obscurity.  From  this  Irving 
was  entirely  free.  There  is  no  visible  strain 
ing  to  attract  attention.  His  mood  is  caln} 
and  unexaggerated.  Even  in  some  of  his 
pathos,  which  is  open  to  the  suspicion  of 
being  "  literary,"  there  is  rio  literary ;._exr 
aggeration.  He  seems  always  writing  from, 
an  internal  calm,  which  is  the  necessary) 
condition  of  his  production.  If  he  wins  at 
all  by  his  style,  by  his  humor,  by  his  por 
traiture  of  scenes  or  of  character,  it  is  by  a 
gentle  force,  like  that  of  the  sun  in  spring. 
There  are  many  men  now  living,  or  recently 
dead,  intellectual  prodigies,  who  have  stim 
ulated  thought,  upset  opinions,  created  men 
tal  eras,  to  whom  Irving  stands  hardly  in 
as  fair  a  relation  as  Goldsmith  to  Johnson. 
What  verdict  the  next  generation  will  put 
upon  their  achievements  I  do  not  know  ; 
but  it  is  safe  to  say  that  their  position  and 


302  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

that  of  Irving  as  well 'will  depend  largely 
upon  the  affirmation  or  the  reversal  of  their 
views  of  life  and  their  judgments  of  charac 
ter.  I  think  the  calm  work  of  Irving  will 
stand  when  much  of  the  more  startling  and 
perhaps  more  brilliant  intellectual  achieve 
ment  of  this  age  has  passed  away. 

And  this,  leads  me  to  speak  of  Irving's 
moral  quality,  which  I  cannot  bring  myself 
to  exclude  from  a  literary  estimate,  even 
in  the  face  of  the  current  gospel  of  art  for 
art's  sake.  There  is  something  that  made 
Scott  and  Irving  personally  loved  by  the 
millions  of  their  readers,  who  had  only  the 
dimmest  ideas  of  their  personality.  This 
was  some  quality  perceived  in  what  they 
wrote.  Each  one  can  define  it  for  himself ; 
there  it  is,  and  I  do  not  see  why  it  is  not 
as  integral  a  part  of  the  authors  —  an  ele 
ment  in  the  estimate  of  their  future  posi 
tion  —  as  what  we  term  their  intellect,  their 
knowledge,  their  skill,  or  their  art.  How 
ever  you  rate  it,  you  cannot  account  for  Ir 
ving's  influence  in  the  world  without  it.  In 
his  tender  tribute  to  Irving,  the  great-hearted 
Thackeray,  who  saw  as  clearly  as  anybody 
the  place  of  mere  literary  art  in  the  sum 


CHARACTER   OF  HIS  LITERATURE.     303 

total  of  life,  quoted  the  dying  words  of  Scott 
to  Lockhart,  —  "  Be  a  good  man,  my  dear." 
We  know  well  enough  that  the  great  author 
of  "  The  Newcomes"  and  the  great  author 
of  "  The  Heart  of  Midlothian  "  recognized 
the  abiding  value  in  literature  of  integrity, 
sincerity,  purity,  charity,  faith.  These  are 
beneficences ;  and  Irving's  literature,  walk 
round  it  and  measure  it  by  whatever  criti 
cal  instruments  you  will,  is  a  beneficent  lit 
erature.  The  author  loved  good  women  \ 
and  little  children  and  a  pure  life ;  he  had  \ 
faith  in  his  fellow-men,  a  kindly  sympathy 
with  the  lowest,  without  any  subservience 
to  the  highest ;  he  retained  a  belief  in  the 
possibility  of  chivalrous  actions,  and  did 
not  care  to  envelop  them  in  a  cynical  suspi 
cion  ;  he  was  an  author  still  capable  of  an 
enthusiam.  His  books  are  wholesome,  full 
of  sweetness  and  charm,  of  humor  without 
any  sting,  of  amusement  without  any  stain  ; 
and  their  more  solid  qualities  are  marred 
by  neither  pedantry  nor  pretension. 

Washington  Irving  died  on  the  28th  of 
November,  1859,  at  the  close  of  a  lovely 
day  of  that  Indian  Summer  which  is  no- 


304  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

where  more  full  of  a  melancholy  charm 
than  on  the  banks  of  the  lower  Hudson, 
and  which  was  in  perfect  accord  with  the 
ripe  and  peaceful  close  of  his  life.  He  was 
buried  on  a  little  elevation  overlooking 
Sleepy  Hollow  and  the  river  he  loved, 
amidst  the  scenes  which  his  magic  pen  has 
made  classic  and  his  sepulchre  hallows. 


American 

4  Series   of  Biographies  of  Men   conspicuous  in   the 
Political  History  of  the  United  States. 

EDITED    BY 

JOHN  T.  MORSE,  JR. 


The  object  of  this  series  is  not  merely  to  give  a 
lumber  of  unconnected  narratives  of  men  in  Ameri- 
:an  political  life,  but  to  produce  books  which  shall, 
when  taken  together,  indicate  the  lines  of  political 
ihought  and  development  in  American  history,  — 
Docks  embodying  in  compact  form  the  result  of  ex 
pensive  study  of  the  many  and  diverse  influences 
ivhich  have  combined  to  shape  the  political  history  of 
Dur  country. 

The  series  is  under  the  editorship  of  Mr.  JOHN  T. 
MORSE,  JR.,  whose  historical  and  biographical  writings 
^ive  ample  assurance  of  his  special  fitness  for  this 
task.  The  volumes  now  ready  are  as  follows :  — 

John  Quincy  Adams.     By  JOHN  T.  MORSE,  JR. 
Alexander  Hamilton.     By  HENRY  CABOT  LODGE. 
John  C.  Calfwun.     By  DR.  H.  VON  HOLST. 
Andrew  Jackson.     By  PROF.  W.  G.  SUMNER. 
John  Randolph.     By  HENRY  ADAMS. 
James  Monroe.     By  PRES.  DANIEL  C.  GILMAN. 
Thomas  Jejfirson.     By  JOHN  T.  MORSE,  JR. 
Daniel  Webster.     By  HENRY  CABOT  LODGE. 
Albert  Gallatin.     By  JOHN  AUSTIN  STEVENS. 

IN  PREPARATION. 
John  Adams.     By  JOHN  T.  MORSE,  JR. 
James  Madison.     By  SIDNEY  HOWARD  GAY. 
Henry  Clay.     By  HON.  CARL  SCHURZ. 
Samuel  Adams.     By  JOHN  FISKE. 
Martin  Van  Buren.     By  HON.  WILLIAM  DORSHEIMER. 

Others  to  be  announced  hereafter.  Each  biography 
occupies  a  single  volume,  i6mo,  gilt  top.  Price  $1,25. 


ESTIMATES    OF   THE    PRESS. 

"JOHN   QUINCY  ADAMS." 

That  Mr.  Morse's  conclusions  will  in  the  main  be  those  of 
posterity  we  have  very  little  doubt,  and  he  has  set  an  admirable 
example  to  his  coadjutors  in  respect  of  interesting  narrative, 
just  proportion,  and  judicial  candor.  — New  York  Evening  Post. 
The  work  is  done  in  a  vigorous  and  every  way  admirable 
manner,  which  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  touches  the  high  mark 
of  impartial  but  appreciative  history.  —  Independent  (New 
York). 

Mr.  Morse  has  written  closely,  compactly,  intelligently,  fear 
lessly,  honestly.  —  New  York  Times. 

"ALEXANDER   HAMILTON." 

The  biography  of  Mr.  Lodge  is  calm  and  dignified  through 
out.  He  has  the  virtue  —  rare  indeed  among  biographers  — 
of  impartiality.  He  has  done  his  work  with  conscientious  care, 
and  the  biography  of  Hamilton  is  a  book  which  cannot  have 
too  many  readers.  It  is  more  than  a  biography  ;  it  is  a  study 
in  the  science  of  government.  —  St.  Paul  Pioneer-Press. 

Mr.  Lodge's  portrait  of  Hamilton  is  carefully,  impartially,  and 
skilfully  painted,  and  his  study  of  the  epoch  in  which  Hamil 
ton  was  dominant  is  luminous  and  comprehensive. — Philadel 
phia  North  American. 

"JOHN   C.   CALHOUN." 

Dr.  von  Hoist's  volume  is  certainly  not  the  least  valuable  of 
the  three  that  constitute  the  series,  so  far  as  it  has  at  present 
progressed  ;  and  of  the  series,  as  a  whole,  it  may  be  said  that 
if  the  succeeding  volumes  are  of  the  same  high  order  of  excel 
lence  as  those  that  have  already  appeared  they  will  serve  a 
valuable  purpose,  not  only  as  exemplifying  American  statesmen, 
but  as  a  means  of  training  in  statesmanship.  —  Boston  Journal. 

Nothing  can  exceed  the  skill  with  which  the  political  career 
of  the  great  South  Carolinian  is  portrayed  in  these  pages.  The 
work  is  superior  to  any  other  number  of  the  series  thus  far,  and 
we  do  not  think  it  can  be  surpassed  by  any  of  those  that  are  to 
come.  The  whole  discussion  in  relation  to  Calhoun's  position 
Is  eminently  philosophical  and  just. —  The  Dial  (Chicago). 


"ANDREW  JACKSON." 

Prof.  Sumner  has  written  what  we  think  may  rightly  be  called 
an  impartial  life  of  perhaps  the  strongest  personality  that  was 
ever  elected  President,  and  yet  he  has  not  made  his  story  dull. 
He  has,  ...  all  in  all,  made  the  justest  long  estimate  of  Jackson 
that  has  had  itself  put  between  the  covers  of  a  book.  —  New 
York  '1 'imes. 

Professor  Sumner's  account  and  estimate  of  Andrew  Jackson 
as  a  statesman  is  one  of  the  most  masterly  monographs  that  we 
have  ever  had  the  pleasure  of  reading.  It  is  calm  and  clear.  — 
Providence  Journal. 

A  book  of  exceptional  value  to  students  of  politics.  —  Con- 
gregationalist  (Boston). 

"JOHN   RANDOLPH." 

The  book  has  been  to  me  intensely  interesting.  I  have  been 
especially  struck  by  the  literary  and  historical  merit  of  the  first 
two  chapters  :  they  are  terse  ;  full  of  picture,  suggestion,  life  ; 
with  fine  strokes  of  satire  and  humor.  The  book  is  rich  in  new 
facts  and  side  lights,  and  is  worthy  of  its  place  in  the  already 
brilliant  series  of  monographs  on  American  Statesmen.  I 
heartily  congratulate  Mr.  Morse  over  the  solid  success  the  series 
has  already  won.  —  Prof.  MOSES  Corr  TYLER. 

Remarkably  interesting.  .  .  .  The  biography  has  all  the  ele 
ments  of  popularity,  and  cannot  fail  to  be  widely  read.  —  Hart 
ford  Con  rant. 

A  most  lively  and  interesting  volume.  —  New  York  Tribune. 


"JAMES   MONROE." 

In  clearness  of  style,  and  in  all  points  of  literary  workman 
ship,  from  cover  to  cover,  the  volume  is  well-nigh  perfect. 
There  is  also  a  calmness  of  judgment,  a  correctness  of  taste, 
and  an  absence  of  partisanship  which  are  too  frequently  want 
ing  in  biographies,  and  especially  in  political  biographies. — 
American  Literary  Churchman  (Baltimore). 

At  last  the  character  of  this  distinguished  statesman  has  re 
ceived  justice  at  the  hands  of  the  historian.  His  biographer 
has  written  the  most  satisfactory  account  of  the  life  of  this  il 
lustrious  man  which  has  been  given  the  country. — San  Fran 
cisco  Bulletin. 

A  volume  which  gives  an  excellent  and  well-proportioned 
outline  of  the  eminent  statesman's  career.  —  Boston  Journal. 


"THOMAS  JEFFERSON." 

The  requirements  of  political  biography  have  rarely  been  met 
so  satisfactorily  as  in  this  memoir  of  Jefferson.  .  .  .  Mr.  Morse 
has  shown  himself  amply  competent  for  the  task,  and  he  has 
given  us  a  singularly  just,  well-proportioned  and  interesting 
sketch  of  the  personal  and  political  career  of  the  author  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence.  —  Boston  Journal. 

The  book  is  exceedingly  interesting  and  readable.  The  at 
tention  of  the  reader  is  strongly  seized  at  once,  and  he  is  carried 
along  in  spite  of  himself,  sometimes  protesting,  sometimes 
doubting,  yet  unable  to  lay  the  book  down.  —  Chicago  Standard. 

"DANIEL  WEBSTER." 

The  massiveness  of  Mr.  Lodge's  subject,  the  compass  and 
high  significance  of  many  of  the  single  themes  with  which  he 
has  had  to  labor,  and  the  voluminous  amount  of  the  material 
requiring  his  critical  study  would  seem  to  have  demanded  a 
singular  skill  of  compression  in  bringing  the  results  within  this 
small  volume.  Yet  the  task  has  been  achieved  ably,  admirably, 
and  faithfully.  —  Boston  Transcript. 

It  will  be  read  by  students  of  history  ;  it  will  be  invaluable  as 
a  work  of  reference  ;  it  will  be  an  authority  as  regards  matters 
of  fact  and  criticism  ;  it  hits  the  key-note  of  Webster's  durable 
and  ever-growing  fame  ;  it  is  adequate,  calm,  impartial ;  it  is 
admirable.  — Philadelphia  Press. 


"ALBERT   GALLATIN." 

The  greater  part  of  Mr.  Stevens's  frank,  simple,  and  straight 
forward  book  is  devoted  to  a  careful  narrative  of  Gallatin's 
financial  administration,  and  next  in  importance  to  this  is  the 
excellent  chapter  devoted  to  Gallatin's  brilliant  diplomatic  ser 
vices.  The  study  of  an  honorable  and  attractive  character  is 
completed  by  some  interesting  pages  of  personal  and  domestic 
history.  —  New  York  Tribune. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  carefully  prepared  of  these  very  valu 
able  volumes,  .  .  .  abounding  in  information  not  so  readily  ac 
cessible  as  is  that  pertaining  to  men  more  often  treated  by  the 
biographer.  .  .  .  The  whole  work  covers  a  ground  which  the 
political  student  cannot  afford  to  neglect.  —  Boston  Correspon 
dent  Hartford  Courant. 

***  For  sale  by  nil  Booksellers.  Sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of 
price  by  the  Publishers, 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY,  BOSTON. 


American  JHen  of  betters. 

EDITED   BY 

CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER. 


A  series  of  biographies  of  distinguished  American 
authors,  having  all  the  special  interest  of  biography, 
and  the  larger  interest  and  value  of  illustrating  the 
different  phases  of  American  literature,  the  social, 
political,  and  moral  influences  which  have  moulded 
these  authors  and  the  generations  to  which  they  be 
longed. 

This  series  when  completed  will  form  an  admi 
rable  survey  of  all  that  is  important  and  of  historical 
influence  in  American  literature,  and  will  itself  be  a 
creditable  representation  of  the  literary  and  critical 
ability  of  America  to-day. 

Washington  Irving.    By  CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER. 
Noah  Webster.     By  HORACE  E.  SCUDDER. 
Henry  D.  Thorcau.     By  FRANK  B.  SANBORN. 
George  Ripley.    By  OCTAVIUS  BROOKS  FROTHINGHAM. 
J.  Fenimore  Cooper.    By  PROF.  T.  R.  LOUNSBURY. 
Margaret  Fuller  Ossoli.     By  T.  W.  HIGGINSON. 

IN  PREPARA  T2ON. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson.    By  OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES. 
Edgar  Allan  Poe.     By  GEORGE  E.  WOODBERRY. 
Edmund  Quincy.     By  SIDNEY  HOWARD  GAY. 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne.     By  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 
William  Cullen  Bryant.     By  JOHN  BIGELOW. 
Bayard  Taylor.    By  J.  R.  G.  HASSARD. 
William  Gilmore  Simms.     By  GEORGE  W.  CABLE. 
Benjamin  Franklin.     By  JOHN  BACH  McMASTER. 

Others  to  be  announced  hereafter. 
Each  volume,  with  Portrait,  i6mo,  gilt  top,  $1.25. 


"WASHINGTON    IRVING." 

Mr.  Warner  has  not  only  written  with  sympathy,  minute 
knowledge  of  his  subject,  line  literary  taste,  and  that  easy, 
fascinating  style  which  always  puts  him  on  such  good 
terms  with  his  readers,  but  he  has  shown  a  tact,  critical 
sagacity,  and  sense  of  proportion  full  of  promise  for  the 
rest  of  the  series  which  is  to  pass  under  his  supervision. 

—  New  York  Tribune. 

Mr.  Charles  Dudley  Warner  has  made  an  admirable 
biography  of  Washington  Irving,  and  his  critical  estimate 
of  the  man  and  the  writer  is  unbiased,  well  weighed,  and 
accurate.  —  Philadclpliia  Press. 

It  is  a  very  charming  piece  of  literary  work,  and  pre 
sents  the  reader  with  an  excellent  picture  of  Irving  as  a 
man  and  of  his  methods  as  an  author,  together  with  an 
accurate  and  discriminating  characterization  of  his  works. 

—  Boston  Journal. 

It  would  hardly  be  possible  to  produce  a  fairer  or  more 
candid  book  of  its  kind.  —  Literary  World  (London). 


"NOAH   WEBSTER." 

Mr.  Scudder's  biography  of  Webster  is  alike  honorable 
to  himself  and  its  subject.  Finely  discriminating  in  all 
that  relates  to  personal  and  intellectual  character,  schol 
arly  and  just  in  its  literary  criticisms,  analyses,  and  esti 
mates,  it  is  besides  so  kindly  and  manly  in  its  tone,  its 
narrative  is  so  spirited  and  enthralling,  its  descriptions 
are  so  quaintly  graphic,  so  varied  and  cheerful  in  their 
coloring,  and  its  pictures  so  teem  with  the  bustle,  the 
movement,  and  the  activities  of  the  real  life  of  a  by-gone 
but  most  interesting  age,  that  the  attention  of  the  reader 
is  never  tempted  to  wander,  and  he  lays  down  the  book 
with  a  sigh  of  regret  for  its  brevity.  —  Harper's  MontJily 
Magazine. 

Mr.  Scudder  has  clone  his  work  with  characteristic 
thoroughness  and  fidelity  to  facts,  and  has  not  spared 
those  tine,  unobtrusive  charms  of  style  and  humor  which 
give  him  a  place  among  our  best  writers.  —  Christian 
Union  (New  York). 

This  little  volume  is  a  scholarly,  painstaking,  and  intel 
ligent  account  of  a  singularly  unique  career.  In  a  purely 
literary  point  of  view  it  is  a  surprisingly  good  piece  of 
work.  —  New  York  Times. 

It  fills  completely  its  place  in  the  purpose  of  this  se 
ries  of  volumes. —  The  Critic  (New  York). 


"HENRY  D.  THOREAU." 

Mr.  Sanborn's  book  is  thoroughly  American  and  truly 
fascinating.  Its  literary  skill  is  exceptionally  good,  and 
there  is  a  racy  flavor  in  its  pages  and  an  amount  of  ex 
act  knowledge  of  interesting  people  that  one  seldom  meets 
with  in  current  literature.  Mr.  Sanborn  has  done  Tho- 
reau's  genius  an  imperishable  service. — American  Church 
Review  (New  York). 

Mr.  Sanborn  has  accomplished  his  difficult  task  with 
much  ability.  .  .  .  He  has  told  in  an  entertaining  and 
luminous  way  the  strange  story  of  Thoreau's  remarkable 
career,  and  has  expounded  with  much  appreciative  sym 
pathy  and  analytical  power  the  moral  and  intellectual 
idiosyncrasies  of  the  most  striking  and  original  figure  in 
American  literature.  —  Philadelphia  North  American. 

Mr.  Sanborn  has  written  a  careful  book  about  a  curious 
man,  whom  he  has  studied  as  impartially  as  possible  ; 
whom  he  admires  warmly  but  with  discretion;  and  the 
story  of  whose  life  he  has  told  with  commendable  frank 
ness  and  simplicity. — New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

It  is  undoubtedly  the  best  life  of  Thoreau  extant. — 
Christian  Advocate  (New  York). 

"GEORGE  RIPLEY." 

Mr.  Frothingham's  memoir  is  a  calm  and  thoughtful 
and  tender  tribute.  It  is  marked  by  rare  discrimination, 
and  good  taste  and  simplicity.  The  biographer  keeps 
himself  in  the  background,  and  lets  his  subject  speak. 
And  the  result  is  one  of  the  best  examples  of  personal 
portraiture  that  we  have  met  with  in  a  long  time. —  The 
Churchman  (New  York). 

He  has  fulfilled  his  responsible  task  with  admirable 
fidelity,  frank  earnestness,  justice,  fine  feeling,  balanced 
moderation,  delicate  taste,  and  finished  literary  skill.  It 
is  a  beautiful  tribute  to  the  high-bred  scholar  and  gener 
ous-hearted  man.  whose  friend  he  has  so  worthily  por 
trayed. —  Rev.  William  H.  Channing  (London). 

Mr.  Frothingham  has  made  a  very  interesting  and  val 
uable  memoir,  and  one  that  can  be  read  with  profit  by  all 
aspirants  for  recognition  in  the  world  of  letters.  He 
writes  affectionately  and  admiringly,  though  temperately. 
—  Chicago  Journal. 

It  is  a  valuable  addition  to  our  literature.  The  work 
was  committed  to  a  skilled  hand,  and  it  is  executed  with 
the  delicacy  of  perception  and  treatment  which  the  sub 
ject  required.  —  Charleston  News  and  Courier. 


"JAMES   FENIMORE   COOPER." 

We  have  here  a  model  biography.  We  venture  to  believe 
that  the  accuracy  of  its  statements  will  not  be  challenged, 
its  absolute  impartiality  will  not  be  questioned,  the  sense 
of  literary  proportion  in  the  use  of  material  will  be  ap 
preciated  by  all  who  are  capable  of  judging,  the  critical 
acumen  will  be  intensely  relished,  and  to  the  mass  of 
readers  who  care  little  for  facts,  or  impartiality,  or  literary 
form,  or  criticism,  the  story  of  the  life  will  "have  some 
thing  of  the  fascination  of  one  of  the  author's  own  ro 
mances.  For  l  he  book  is  charmingly  written,  with  a  felic 
ity  and  vigor  of  diction  that  are  notable,  and  with  a  humor 
sparkling,  racy,  and  never  obtrusive.  —  New  York  Tribune. 

Prof.  Lounsbury's  book  is  an  admirable  specimen  of 
literary  biography.  .  .  .  We  can  recall  no  recent  addition  to 
American  biography  in  any  department  which  is  superior 
to  it.  It  gives  the  reader  not  merely  a  full  account  of  Coo 
per's  literary  career,  but  there  is  mingled  with  this  a  suffi 
cient  account  of  the  man  himself  apart  from  his  books,  and 
of  the  period  in  which  he  lived,  to  keep  alive  the  interest 
from  the  first  word  to  the  last.  —  New  York  Evening  Post. 

Those  who  are  not  familiar  with  Prof.  Lounsbury  as  an 
author  will  be  surprised  to  find  how  well  he  writes.  His 
style  is  admirable, — clear,  pure,  animated,  and  especially 
marked  by  the  quality  known  best  to  the  general  reader  as 
readable.  He  tells  the  story  of  Cooper's  life  with  an  in 
terest  that  never  flags,  and  he  invests  it  with  an  attraction 
that  few  would  have  supposed  it  to  possess. —  Boston  Ga 
zette. 

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The  Bay  of  Seven  Islands.     Portrait.     i6mo,  $1.00. 

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Songs  of  Three   Centuries.     Selected  by  J.   G.  Whittier. 

Household  Edition.     I2mo,  $2.00.     Library  Edition.     32 

illustrations.     8vo,  $4.00. 

J.  A.  Wilstach. 

Translation  of  Virgil's  Works.     2  vols.  cr.  8vo,  $5.00. 

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